An Exceptional Love
by Apollo888
Summary: Matthew told Mary he would love her until the last breath left his body. He was wrong. Series 4 AU with some spoilers.
1. Prologue - The Appeal

**Law Office of Alexander Lewis, September 1921**

"You're late."

Alex rolled his eyes at his law clerk as he walked past the reception area and through to his office. She came in behind him.

"I thought the entire point of having my own practice was that I could set my own hours. So, I can never actually be late, can I?" he asked her pointedly.

"You can if your clients are kept waiting," she replied undeterred.

"I highly doubt they're in a hurry. They have nowhere else to go."

"Be that as it may, the new files have arrived and Court begins in an hour."

"An hour? Really, Michelle, and here I thought I would have to rush," he smirked.

He swept around the large desk and sat down. Michelle took her seat on the other side of his desk, pad and pen at the ready.

"No tea?" Alex frowned.

"No time," she answered. "If you hadn't been late…"

Alex sighed, giving her a knowing glance before focusing on his work.

He picked up the first folder from the neat stack of files placed in the centre of his desk. He flipped through it quickly, dictating brief instructions before handing it across to Michelle to take back. By the eighth folder, he glanced over at her with a raised eyebrow.

"Either your shorthand has improved remarkably or you haven't been writing down anything that I've said."

"I already figured out what you would say and wrote it all down in advance," she replied in a bored tone. "I looked over all of the files while waiting for you to show up late. I'm just checking off each set of instructions as you go through them and adding in anything I've missed."

"And have you missed anything?"

"Not as of yet, although you've missed quite a bit actually," she noted.

They smiled at each other.

"Just how long have we been working together?"

"Not long enough, apparently," she quipped.

"Right then," Alex pushed the stack across to her. "Is there anything in any of these files that I actually need to know about?"

"There is, on one particular matter," Michelle said carefully.

"Yes?" Alex looked at her, waiting for her to continue. "What is it?"

Michelle reached into the stack and fetched one of the folders, turning it around and opening it as she handed it back to him.

"This one is rather…interesting."

Alex glanced at the information sheet. "White male, blond hair, blue eyes, 36 years old, ah..." Alex smirked as he read further. "I see what you mean," he said, glancing up at her. "He drives an AC. Lovely car."

"That's not what I found interesting," Michelle rolled her eyes.

"Fine," Alex pouted, flipping the page and reading in greater detail. "Son of a Doctor and a Nurse, born and raised in Manchester, moved to Yorkshire in September 1912, practised law, mainly wills and conveyancing, next in line to be Earl of Grantham," Alex showed mild interest in the summary.

"Well you know how much sympathy I have for well-to-do lawyers," he smirked.

"He wasn't always well-to-do, at least not in the beginning. The fact that he's a lawyer doesn't matter either."

Alex turned another page. "Wife and an infant son. Well that's something but hardly what I would call enough to make a fuss over, Michelle."

"Keep going," she said patiently.

Alex shook his head and read on.

"Served in the army during the First World War, promoted to Captain, led a battalion at the Somme, among other campaigns, injured in combat, lost the use of his legs, returned home for convalescence, regained full function of his legs as a result of…"

Alex's eyes widened and he glanced at the page again.

Michelle smirked at him as he looked up at her.

"I don't believe it," Alex said as he flipped the pages and read the file once again.

"It isn't entirely on all four corners with the accepted cases, but there's far more there than we usually see. You've gone to the panel before with much less than what he's got. We have only one supporting affidavit, but it's a strong one."

Alex nodded, reading the file more intently. He finally closed it and got up from his desk.

"Refer all of the others to the Appeals Court. Someone else can handle them. It's rubber stamping mostly. Use Taylor, he could stand to spend some time among the masses."

Michelle rose and carried the stack of files as she walked behind him. She deposited the files on her desk and picked up an accordion folder filled with several briefs and another file folder.

"Call ahead and let them know I'm coming. Make sure they know where he is. I'll need to speak to him afterward, hopefully with good news. Give the clerk his name, but not the precise nature of the case. I'll also need the file on…"

Michelle handed Alex the accordion folder before he could finish his thought. They smiled at each other again.

"I do love you," he said softly.

"Yes, I know you do."

"Is this file updated?"

"Yes. Supplementary briefs with the additional information for you to pass up when you arrive. The file folder has everything we have on his wife…Lady Mary Crawley."

**House of Lords, September 1921**

Alex weaved through the crowds as he walked down the long hallway to the main chamber. He always enjoyed coming here. Unlike the other Courts, the House of Lords was properly constructed to resemble what it was – the highest Court in the land. Marble was everywhere – across the floors, the walls, even the door and window frames. Alex walked confidently and briskly towards the main chamber and the doors were opened for him as he entered.

The chamber was half full but filling quickly. The list was short today and getting Alex's case on to the docket was easy. The Judges loved to listen to Alex almost as much as they loved rejecting his appeals. He always made the discussion entertaining, and he was relentless in his arguments.

He spread out his documents on the table in the order he would be referring to them. He glanced at them as he took his gown from his robes bag and pulled it over his suit with a flourish. Adjusting the garment across his shoulders, he pulled his vest down slightly and straightened his white tabs across his collar.

"Thank Heaven we don't need to wear the wigs anymore," he muttered.

He took up the stack of supplementary briefs and brought them to the clerk's desk.

"Mr. Lewis," the clerk nodded. "Your files are with the Judges. Do you have anything else that you want them to review?"

"Yes, I prepared these supplementary briefs to accompany my argument."

"Very well. We'll see that they get them."

A bell sounded ominously. Alex went back to his table and stood at attention with the rest of the audience as the panel of five Judges entered. They took their seats on the elevated bench and nodded to all assembled. Alex bowed low, keeping his eyes looking up at them.

"Anyone having business before the House, speak now and ye shall be heard!" the clerk announced. "You may be seated."

Alex stepped over to the lectern and placed a folder in front of him.

"Mr. Lewis," a Judge called. "We understand you have an appeal today?"

"Yes, Lord Gabriel," Alex answered. "I believe the materials are already before you. I can walk you through the facts if it pleases the panel."

"We've read the materials, Mr. Lewis," another Judge interjected. "I must admit that it seems a rather straightforward case. I don't know why you're bringing it before us, frankly. A lower Court should be able to deal with this candidate, shouldn't they?"

"I too thought it was relatively cut and dry, Lord Michael," Alex said smoothly. "However there are several particular facts of which I was made aware just this morning that place this case squarely within the Exception."

"The Exception?" another Judge said. "Are you quite sure about that, Mr. Lewis?"

"I am, my Lord."

"Mr. Lewis, your track record when raising the Exception is hardly stellar."

"It isn't, my Lord," Alex acknowledged. "However, I'm sure you will all agree that if even one successful case can be found, then it is worth every effort."

The Judges looked at each other and nodded.

"Counsel for the Appellant brings this motion for leave to appeal under the Exception test. Counsel has submitted supplementary materials for the consideration of the panel and we shall consider such materials with the oral submissions to be provided. Leave is granted to consider the within Appeal pursuant to the Exception test."

The clerk nodded that the endorsement had been recorded and the Judges turned back to Alex.

"You may proceed, Mr. Lewis."

"Thank you, my Lord."

"Let's get to it, Mr. Lewis. What precise facts are you submitting in support of your argument for the Exception to apply?"

"There are three, my Lord," Alex answered. "They are, in order, Necessity, Intervention and the Balance of Convenience favouring my client."

Whispers could be heard in the audience and the Judges looked at each other as they noted the summary.

"Beginning with Necessity. My client's wife just gave birth to a son, who will be the heir to the Grantham Estate of Downton, England. The lad will need guidance, particularly given the rash of changes occurring both to the Estate and across Europe. The changes to the Estate are part of a long term strategic plan that was prepared by my client. He's the only man capable of seeing the changes through, which shall benefit not only the family, but hundreds of tenants, villagers, visitors, tourists and children, to say nothing for the impact he will have when he is ultimately called to Parliament and to sit in the House."

"The economic conditions in England are far different now than they were before…what did they call it? World War I. Even if your client were available to guide the modernisation of the Estate, that certainly does not guarantee its survival."

"Correct, my Lord," Alex replied. "However, he is the best equipped to deal with these changes and to work with his family to wade through it. Without him, his widow, father-in-law and brother-in-law would be left to their own devices, and as we have put in the materials, there is ample evidence that neither is particularly well prepared for such a task."

"The British North America railway episode," a Judge smiled.

"Among others, yes, my Lord," Alex said calmly.

"None of that is particularly exceptional, Mr. Lewis. We're prepared to accept that the boy needs his father, and that your client has the potential to positively impact a great number of lives, but that's hardly unique."

"The three facts are to be taken together in context, my Lord, and no one factor is determinative in my submission."

"Fine. The second fact then?"

"Secondly, Intervention. His wife has been exceptionally inconsolable. We project she will be in mourning for beyond the usual six months, and already she has pulled back to have little to no interaction with the child. We further project attempts by the family to be less than convincing. She's admitted, and I quote, that 'half of herself is missing' without my client with her, and that she will 'love him until the last breath leaves her body.'"

"A grieving widow is hardly exceptional at all, Mr. Lewis."

"That is true, my Lord, however I submit the evidence of mourning in support of an overall lengthy and detailed factual record of the exceptional love between this Lady and my client. There is a summary at Tab 3 of the supplementary brief. It's rather voluminous actually, and that's only the summary," Alex smiled.

The Judges flipped through the supplementary material. Alex waited, watching when the Judges would smirk, smile or even laugh quietly amongst themselves, pointing to particular images or passages that Michelle had included in the materials.

"They did enjoy a good argument, didn't they?" a Judge smirked.

"It reads like a saga, indeed," another agreed.

"Of particular note, my Lords," Alex paused, waiting to ensure he had their attention. "In relation to the argument on Intervention – she prayed for my client while he was at War, before they were betrothed actually."

The Judges turned to the applicable page.

"Praying for a loved one away at War is hardly exceptional, Mr. Lewis."

"Correct, my Lord. However, as you all know, it is quite exceptional for the prayer to be answered."

The Judges frowned as they read the next page of the supplementary brief, titled simply "The Miracle".

"The explosion killed all within its blast radius, except for my client," Alex said slowly, emphasizing each word.

"But he did lose his legs. So he did not emerge unscathed," a Judge noted.

"One could argue that it was the sacrifice of the Mason boy that saved your client, and not the prayer of his wife," another Judge suggested.

"That is a possibility," Alex conceded. "But Mr. Mason had nothing to do with the care of my client by Lady Mary, nor with her pledge that she would love him on any terms, and most certainly not with respect to my client's subsequent unexpected and miraculous recovery."

The Judges read the details intently.

"He was healed," Alex repeated for emphasis. "Because he was watched over from the moment the prayer was answered. The prayer of the woman who would become his wife and mother of his child."

Murmurs went through the room. The Judges looked at each other.

"There is also the matter of Intervention by sacrifice. The affidavit of Lavinia Swire is at Tab 8 of the supplementary brief. You will note that her last thoughts were of the happiness of my client, and further that one of her last acts on Earth was to recommend my client to her father. With respect to my client and his future wife, she states, and I quote, 'May they be happy, with my love'. We therefore have independent third party support for the exceptional nature of this relationship, from a woman who had every reason to despise the both of them, and yet did not."

"Mr. Lewis, I give you credit that this case is more compelling than others you have brought before us. But you haven't satisfied a rather crucial part of the test, have you?"

"Not yet, my Lord. I was just about to get to the point you are alluding to."

"Very well."

"The third relevant fact in support of my client's appeal is the Balance of Convenience. We have already seen evidence of an answered prayer, which is _prima facie _evidence of Intervention, as well as a sacrifice by another individual, which ultimately led to my client marrying his wife. I now submit to you that my client's candidacy is not properly up for consideration at this time because he ought to have been still subject to a Guardianship."

"A Guardianship, you say?"

"A Guardianship, my Lord. The wife's prayer and the Miracle together ought to have ensured that my client survived far beyond the age of 36. To be felled by a mere motor vehicle accident on the same day that his son and heir was born is hardly in keeping with a proper Guardianship. While I do not suppose to understand the reasons for the Guardianship not prevailing, I respectfully submit that it ought to have still remained in place."

Murmurs went up again through the crowd.

"Therefore," Alex pressed ahead. "My Lords, we have an exceptional need for my client in the lives of both his family and hundreds of others; we have an exceptional love between my client and his wife; and finally we have a prayer, a Miracle, a sacrifice and a Guardianship that should have prevented the horrible event from happening."

"Mr. Lewis, isn't it true that recklessness and disregard for one's own welfare would be grounds for the Guardianship to not apply?"

"Yes, my Lord, in theory that's correct," Alex said carefully.

"And isn't it also true that your client was travelling at an accelerated rate of speed at the time of his motor vehicle accident?"

"He was able to maintain control of the vehicle on the road, my Lord."

"But not to safely and easily avoid the collision with the lorry, correct?"

"Yes, my Lord."

"And is it not also true that prior to impact, your client was not in fact paying attention to the road ahead. It appears he figuratively had his head in the clouds as it were, correct?"

"He was looking up, my Lord."

"Indeed he was, possibly to his peril."

"Possibly, my Lord," Alex said. "However, in my respectful submission, such conduct was not sufficient for the Guardianship to expire."

"Go on."

"My Lords the very principle of Guardianship is that it is bestowed upon individuals deemed worthy to receive it, sometimes due to their conduct and the way they have lived their lives, and sometimes because they are not due to have their candidacy considered until the appropriate time. In the case of my client, after everything that he has been through, his reasonable expectation must have been to enjoy a long life with the woman he loves and with his family. He would expect drama. He would expect hardship. He would expect adversity. He would expect all of this because his life to that point was defined by all manner of drama, hardship and adversity, particularly following his meeting Lady Mary in 1912. But to survive the War, and to be cured of his paralysis, and to finally marry the woman he loves, only to then be separated from her, to be denied the happiness that was hard won, is quite tragic, in my submission. A Guardianship is in place to ensure such tragedy does not occur. If this panel cannot exercise its discretion to achieve the proper result for my client, then what is the purpose of Guardianship? What is the purpose of our system? It exists, indeed, _we_ exist, to address situations exactly like this one, and to put candidates such as my client, where they belong."

Further murmurs were heard across the chamber.

"Mr. Lewis," Lord Gabriel looked down at him. "Could this all not have very easily been avoided if your client had simply picked up the telephone rather than the keys to his motor?"

"Yes, my Lord," Alex smirked. "But are we not here to correct such errors in judgment?"

"Anything else to add, Mr. Lewis?"

"One last point, my Lord," Alex nodded, taking a breath to calm himself as he turned to the last page of his supplementary brief.

"Lady Mary told my client on the day of his motor vehicle accident that she hoped she would be allowed to 'be _his_ Mary Crawley for all eternity...and no one else's'. They had just celebrated the birth of their son together. It is normal for new parents to be swept up in euphoria at such moments, but when we consider the history of this couple to that point, all that they survived, all that they endured, both self-inflicted and beyond their control, this hope, this plea, this love is what should have protected my client. He does not belong here, my Lords. Lady Mary does not deserve to have her hope cast aside. The Exception test was created for this exact situation. It is not a device that we should leave in our arsenal, never to be used and to only look at wistfully. Today, my Lords, I urge you to wield it."

"We shall take a recess and return with our decision."

The clerk called for attention and all rose. Alex stood at the lectern, looking over his notes once more. He had said everything he intended to say. The issue of his client's recklessness was a valid point, but he did not think it sufficient to deny his appeal on that basis alone. He looked up at the bright lights above the chamber and sighed.

"One time, that's all I ask," he whispered. "After all these years, you have to give me at least one."

After several moments, the bell sounded again and all rose to attention as the Judges re-entered the chamber.

Everyone took their seats once the Judges sat down. Alex steepled his fingers in front of him and waited. He stared straight ahead, focusing on a particular pattern in the marble of the elevated bench. He did not look at the Judges as they began to read their decision.

"This panel has considered the within appeal for application of the Exception test. Counsel for the Appellant submits that the Exception applies based on Necessity, Intervention and the Balance of Convenience. This panel has held in past decisions that all factors of the test are to be considered together, and that no one factor is determinative of the appeal."

"Turning now to the three factors. The Necessity factor is a threshold question, and in our view it has been met. It is clear that the Appellant's presence is required by a significant number of people, both as a result of his standing within his own family and his title within his community, both at Downton and in London, England. This panel accepts that the potential for positive impact is high and accordingly rules that Necessity has been proven."

"This panel notes that the evidence on Intervention is more comprehensive than most appeals that have come before it. We accept the evidence of a clear Prayer, a subsequent Miracle and a Sacrifice. While there are, in our experience, often individual incidents of the elements of an Intervention, and in particular, Prayer is very common, we agree with Mr. Lewis that this is a rare case where it is reasonable to assume a strong link between the Prayer and the Miracle. Accordingly, we rule that Intervention has been proven."

The audience whispered among themselves. Alex had never brought an appeal past the Intervention stage to date. No one had for centuries. Alex continued to stare straight ahead.

"Finally, the Balance of Convenience branch of the test is usually the most critical. Here this panel must weigh whether it is better to bring the Appellant's candidacy before the proper authority now, or grant the Exception to delay consideration to a future time. It is generally accepted that all candidates are to be judged upon their arrival and that convenience favours judgment in a timely manner. Mr. Lewis submits that the Balance of Convenience favours the Appellant in this case, due to his argument that the Guardianship that existed following the Prayer and Miracle ought to have remained in place at the time of the Appellant's motor vehicle accident. Indeed, Mr. Lewis submits that the Guardianship was re-affirmed on that very date by the expressed wishes of the Appellant's wife."

Alex blinked as the Judge paused.

"When considering the applicability and effectiveness of a Guardianship, this panel must determine not only whether a Guardianship existed at the material time, but also whether the Appellant was subject to the Guardianship when the incident took place. Factors such as recklessness, disregard for one's own welfare not in the context of saving others, arrogance and vanity may be weighed. In this case, we accept that a Guardianship existed following the Miracle suggested by Mr. Lewis. There is no evidence before this panel that the Guardianship did not exist as at the time the motor vehicle accident took place in September 1921. We do, however, find evidence of recklessness on the part of the Appellant, both in the manner in which he operated his motor vehicle, and his failure to keep a proper lookout. We also question the decision to drive to Downton Abbey from the hospital to collect his family, when summoning them by telephone would have been a far more recommended approach."

Alex swallowed.

"Considering all of these factors collectively, the panel finds that the test for the Exception has been met. The evidence of recklessness and poor judgment is not sufficient to relieve the applicability of the Guardianship. Before we turn to the relief requested, we wish to make note of Mr. Lewis' learned submissions and assistance to this panel. His effort has been appreciated."

Alex frowned.

"Counsel for the Appellant has requested Resurrection as the appropriate remedy once the Exception test has been met. While this panel understands the argument in favour of such an extraordinary remedy, the evidence of recklessness, poor judgment and the overall character of the Appellant, which, while on the whole commendable, is not sufficient to justify Resurrection in our view. We therefore order that the Appellant's candidacy be adjourned to a later date, that the Appellant be elevated to Protector status with respect to his wife, Lady Mary Crawley, and that the Appellant be placed in the care of Mr. Lewis and his office for immediate Revelation and Education."

"All rise!"

Alex rose on weak legs, standing stoically, still staring at the same piece of marble as the Judges rose and exited the chamber. They each looked over at him as they left, which was unheard of for a panel to do after rendering a decision. The clerk announced that the hearing was over and the audience rose and exited the chamber, discussing the verdict among themselves. Alex stood still, his face frozen.

"Mr. Lewis, sir," the clerk said quietly. "I'll have your things gathered up and sent back to your office with a copy of the Endorsement. You should go, Mr. Lewis. You have work to do, sir."

Alex looked blankly at the clerk.

"That was the finest argument I've ever heard, Mr. Lewis, if you don't mind me saying so."

Alex nodded. He turned, walked slowly from the chamber, his eyes still glazed over.

**Law Office of Alexander Lewis, September 1921**

He felt her fingers across his shoulder. Her touch was light, but he could feel the meaning behind it. It took supreme effort for Alex not to start crying there and then.

"It's all right," Michelle said softly, sitting down next to him on the couch and pulling him to her.

Alex sighed. He tried to resist as she leaned back and took him with her firmly.

"You don't have to comfort me," he protested. "It isn't part of a clerk's job."

"I'm your wife. It's part of _my_ job. Now shut up and let me hold you."

He collapsed into her embrace, her fingers stroking his hair and his cheek. She smelled like strawberries.

"You're wearing the perfume that I bought for you," he laughed. "The one that you hate. I must really have taken a beating if you were willing to do that."

"You'll see later tonight the lengths I am prepared to go to for your comfort," Michelle replied with a smirk. "Wearing tacky perfume for you is just the beginning."

They sat there in his darkened office on the couch. There were no clocks, and neither of them cared about the time. She thought he may have fallen asleep, but she knew better.

"I'm very proud of you, you know," she said quietly. "Do you know how long it's been since an Appeal has been allowed? And based on the Exception test on top of that."

"I really thought we had a chance this time," he whispered against her neck, kissing her lightly. "It was when they praised my argument that I knew we were in the shit. They always compliment you before delivering bad news."

They remained silent for several more moments. They each thought the same thing.

"I'm so sorry, Michelle. I really wanted it to happen for us this time. I-"

"Shut up," she said firmly. "I'm with you. I don't care about the rest of it. I never have."

"But you deserve to be-"

"I said shut up." She kissed him and he stopped talking.

"He's going to be here soon," Michelle said gently after a while longer.

"What am I supposed to tell him?"

"Tell him the truth," she answered. "He's under your authority and you've been ordered to give him the Revelation and to Educate him. So that's what you're going to do."

"You do know we have to make him watch? The wreck, the funeral, the aftermath, everything."

"I know," she sighed.

"I almost wish I had lost completely. At least then he'd be able to move on."

"If I was still down there and you had the chance to be my Protector or to move on, what would you choose?"

"That's not fair. You already know what I did."

"Yes, and I love you for it. And you will need to trust that he is willing to do the same."

"It'll be different for him. It'll be much harder."

"I think the man that you described to the House of Lords can handle it, with the proper guidance," she smiled, kissing his forehead.

Alex raised his head and kissed Michelle firmly before rising from the couch. The lights came back on and he went out into the reception area, straightening his tie and suit jacket. He took a moment to compose himself before walking to the door.

He opened the door and nodded as his client stepped into the office.

"Matthew Crawley, pleased to meet you. My name is Alexander Lewis. You may call me Alex. I'm here to take you back to your wife."


	2. The Reunion

**Previously:**

**Prologue:**

**Law Office of Alexander Lewis, September 1921**

"If I was still down there and you had the chance to be my Protector or to move on, what would you choose?"

"That's not fair. You already know what I did."

"Yes, and I love you for it. And you will need to trust that he is willing to do the same."

"It'll be different for him. It'll be much harder."

"I think the man that you described to the House of Lords can handle it, with the proper guidance," she smiled, kissing his forehead.

Alex raised his head and kissed Michelle firmly before rising from the couch. The lights came back on and he went out into the reception area, straightening his tie and suit jacket. He opened the door and nodded as his client stepped into the office.

"Matthew Crawley, pleased to meet you. My name is Alexander Lewis. You may call me Alex. I'm here to take you to your wife."

**The Reunion:**

**Downton Abbey, England, February 1922**

Matthew stood on the driveway. He usually didn't venture past the grass, so this counted as progress. A few months ago he had made it as far as their tree, although he couldn't bring himself to sit on their bench. With sufficient cajoling and threats from Alex, he had now made it to the driveway.

"At this rate, your son will be off to college by the time you make it inside the house."

Matthew swallowed. He took a step forward, then stopped. Alex watched, stroking his chin as he waited.

"It was easier to just look down at everything," Matthew muttered.

"As much as I'm sure you would enjoy yelling at your wife from a distance, face-to-face contact is somewhat important for any of this to work," Alex said calmly. "Looking at her through her window and appearing to her during her walks will only get you so far. You need to speak to her, Matthew. I've trained you to be a Protector, not an apparition."

Matthew nodded and took a deep breath. He stared straight ahead at Downton Abbey.

"I know that you no longer can feel the cold, but it is February, Matthew," Alex commented. "I prefer being indoors if it can be helped."

Matthew looked straight ahead. He had walked through those doors hundreds of times, he chastised himself. He slowly moved forward.

"What if she doesn't see…"

"She will."

"And what if I can't tell…"

"You will."

"And what if the others think that she's completely lost her…"

"They won't. They already think she's been in mourning too long. Any positive change in her behaviour will be welcomed without question. If she tries to convince anyone, they'll smile patiently and say something like 'of course he's with you, dear. He's with all of us.'"

Matthew stopped at the threshold. "What if she's better off without me?" he whispered. "She's distraught now, but she's strong. She'll get through it. What if seeing me, hearing me, what if it all sets her back? What if it stops her from letting go? What if it stops her from moving on?"

Alex looked up at the cloudless sky and winked.

"If the situation was reversed, and she had the choice of either being your Protector or leaving you to move on, what would you want her to do? Would you want her to leave you be, or would you want her to come back?"

Matthew turned and looked at Alex. His face held a constant smirk but his eyes were earnest and understanding. Matthew extended his hand.

"Thank you, Alex. I can't tell you how much I..."

"You're not rid of me yet," Alex smiled, shaking his hand. "I'll be watching. We all will. Good luck, Matthew."

Matthew turned back to the door and took another deep breath.

"You know that you aren't actually breathing the…"

"It helps me relax," Matthew snapped.

"Very well."

Matthew opened the door to Downton Abbey and walked inside.

**Law Office of Alexander Lewis, February 1922**

"Well that was only five months overdue," Michelle said wryly.

"It took you seven," Alex replied, taking a seat at his desk.

"It took me seven weeks, not months," Michelle clarified, arching her eyebrow at him.

"Let's just see how he does," Alex smiled at her.

"You told him he had to contact her," Michelle said idly.

"Yes, I did."

"That's not technically correct. A Protector need not be seen nor heard. There's nothing that says he has to make himself known to her to protect her."

"There's nothing explicitly against it either," Alex said pointedly.

"You would have thought they would have closed that loophole after you came through," Michelle mused.

"Must have been an oversight."

He reached his hand out and she took it, squeezing it gently.

**Downton Abbey, England, February 1922**

Matthew walked through the Great Hall, looking around as if it was the first time he had been there. He always liked this room, even if it had been the battlefield for more than their fair share of arguments. He smiled now at the memories. He and Mary were foolish sometimes and oftentimes rash. It took several weeks into their marriage for them to learn to properly channel their passion into more…productive pursuits.

He felt her before he heard her footsteps. He felt her before he saw her emerge from the upstairs hallway. He stood at the base of the stairs, rooted to the spot, staring at her as she came down.

She was wearing black, still wearing all black. Her wedding band and engagement ring were on her finger and her skin was paler than usual, even more pale than when he had seen her at the hospital, and at the funeral, and in the months since. She had lost weight. She was even thinner than before her pregnancy.

"Oh Mary," Matthew sighed.

She stopped in her tracks and stared at him. She just stared, not speaking or moving any closer. Matthew stood still, looking back up at her. He tried to speak but the words would not come. They had not come on the days when he had seen her looking at him from the window of the library or the sitting room. They had not come when he had made eye contact with her as she walked around the grounds. For two people known to be so quick with their tongues, their continued silence was shocking.

Mary eventually closed her eyes, took a breath and steadied herself. She opened her eyes, deliberately looking away from him, and slowly walked down the rest of the stairs and into the dining room. Matthew exhaled and followed her.

It took him another week to get over his own nerves. He wandered the house, looking in on Robert and Tom, cringing as they argued far more than he would have wanted. Edith was going to London for a party with Gregson and Lady Rose was getting acclimated to life at Downton, and the servants all seemed the same to him as before he…as they had been previously. Matthew quickly learned the state of affairs both in terms of the health of the Estate and of its residents.

"Damn Death duties," he muttered as he went upstairs.

Now that he was able to watch Mary up close, he was more concerned than ever. She used a cold shield of rudeness to prevent despair from overtaking her. She was rude to Carson. She was rude to Anna. She was rude to her family. Only in her private moments, when she would sit staring out the window or lie in bed looking blankly at the ceiling did he catch glimpses of the real Mary, of _his _Mary. And even then, Matthew saw only the sadness in her eyes.

He wandered into the nursery without really thinking about it. He had looked in on George during the evenings, and it never ceased to make Matthew smile. His dear chap had grown quite a bit in six months. The boy had brown hair, not quite as dark as Mary's but it was wild and difficult to tame like his father's. Matthew smiled as he watched Nanny holding George and cooing at him. Anna smiled at the boy as well and Matthew was glad for her presence.

"Milady! How wonderful to see you! Master George has missed you, haven't you?" Nanny said encouragingly, turning and looking at Matthew.

Matthew's eyes widened and he turned, watching Mary slowly enter the nursery. He stepped back to allow her some room and she stopped. She looked at him, then looked at George. The baby was holding on to Nanny and looking at Mary curiously. Nanny brought the baby over to his Mama. Mary looked again at the baby and back to where Matthew was standing. Her eyes dropped in sadness.

"Poor little orphan," Mary said quietly, kissing him quickly then leaving the room.

Anna's mouth opened in shock. Mary was gone before she could say anything.

Matthew stared at the doorway Mary had escaped through. George became agitated and both Anna and Nanny spoke to him to calm him down. Matthew left the nursery with a frown. It would have to be tonight, he finally decided. Tonight, he would speak to his wife.

He tried to leave her alone for the rest of the day, but when he heard her agitated voice during dinner, he went to her immediately.

He arrived just in time for her outburst, her frustrated plea for everyone to leave her alone. He stood aside as she threw her napkin down and went back up to their bedroom in anger and despair.

Matthew looked at the concerned faces of their family and shook his head. He turned and followed his wife back upstairs.

She was lying in bed, staring at the ceiling. Her scathing rebuke to her family from just moments ago had been fierce, but now she just stared blankly, the fight seemingly gone from her.

Matthew walked to the side of the bed and paused. Should he stand? Should he lie down? Perhaps he should sit casually against the headboard? He closed his eyes. How many times during the War had he lay in a cold trench looking up at a dark grey sky thinking of all he would give up to just have one more word with Mary? Now he was standing in their bedroom practically an arm's length from her and he was suddenly what? Shy?

"They're only trying to help, Mary."

He swallowed, wondering for a moment if she heard him. Frankly, he had trusted Alex when he said that she would, but had not actually thought of the mechanics of speaking to her now. Perhaps he needed to rattle some windows or throw some books on the floor to get her attention? He looked around the room, wondering if flicking the light switch off and on would be too clichéd.

"Well they aren't. They aren't helping at all."

Matthew turned back to Mary. She was still looking up at the ceiling but she was breathing more quickly.

"Because they're telling you what you already know," he said cautiously, lying down next to her.

"No. Because they're telling me to feel better as if it's the easiest thing in the world. As if all I need to do is start wearing purple or lilac instead of black and everything will be all right again."

"But you will need to wear purple, and blue, and red, and green, and colours that aren't black. You'll need to stop mourning someday."

"And who are they to say that day is today?" she bit back.

Matthew paused. For a second, his heart had lifted. Their banter was comfortable and familiar, and he found himself easily replying back to her. As he sensed the bitterness in Mary's last comment, he reminded himself to be careful. Alex had warned him many times – she won't be able to fall back into old routine as easily as you.

"They aren't saying that day is today. They're simply saying that day is coming," he suggested.

Mary turned her head, the soft cloth of the pillow cool and soothing against her cheek. Her vision filled with blue eyes and blond hair and lips curled into a nervous smirk.

"And what if I don't want that day to come?" she whispered.

Matthew's mouth fell open, seeing her gaze fully upon him, knowing she wasn't looking through him or around him or at some space where she thought he should be. She saw him. She saw him and she was on the verge of tears and he willed himself not to reach out and try and touch her.

"It will, my darling. And you will need to face that day, to embrace it, to step forward and live it, to live your life."

"I'm afraid that I've come to realize that my life isn't quite worth living without you in it."

He forced himself to show far more courage than he felt. His smirk grew into a grin.

"And who's saying that I won't be in it?"

Mary closed her eyes. A tear fell across her cheek and on to the pillow. She hated what was coming. She hated opening her eyes and seeing an empty bed beside her. She hated feeling the sorrow and anger and desperation wash over her as the dark bedroom – their bedroom – enveloped her for another evening.

Mary's parents had gently suggested she move rooms, but she was vehemently against the idea. It was impossible to leave this place now that she had begun having her visions. At first she thought she really had gone mad, seeing her dead husband through the window, or during her walks, or in the Great Hall in the exact spot where they had once danced and kissed. But after a while, she couldn't care. Seeing him and now daring to talk to him made her feel oddly calm and at ease, as if it were natural to do so. But she knew it was all in her mind. It had to be, of course. And once her mind realized he was but a figment of her imagination, reason would return and he would disappear and she would be left alone again.

Matthew held himself still. He saw the conflict within her, the battle as she shut her eyes tight and frowned in concentration.

Mary swallowed, preparing herself for the familiar chill of disappointment that would take her when she opened her eyes.

"You needn't be so dramatic."

Her eyes snapped open and she frowned. Blue. Blond. A smile.

"I don't believe in ghosts," she said accusingly.

"Do you believe in us?"

Her face fell.

His eyes widened in concern. He feared he had pushed her too far.

She sighed.

He nodded to her and smiled again.

She gasped. She choked on tears she was holding back desperately.

"So much that it hurts," she whispered.

"And there's your problem."

Anger flared within her as she frowned at him. "I would slap you if it would do any good," she huffed, and turned her head away again.

She could not help herself but shake her head and smirk as she heard a wonderful laugh beside her. A laugh she had not heard in months, not since he had swallowed a box of fireworks and they had held their son together and the world finally seemed right, seemed fair, seemed to be on their side for once.

"You're incorrigible," she berated him.

"There. That's what I'm looking for. Your fire. Your passion. Your will. You need not think of the pain, Mary. Our laughter, our joy, our love. It's all right to think about that."

She turned again and opened her eyes, looking at him with a desperate need that scared him. Thoughts flew through his mind and he quickly raised himself up out of bed and turned back, reaching his hand out to her and smiling encouragingly.

"What are you doing?" she asked as she stared at his hand.

"Come," Matthew said with a smile. "We need to go somewhere."

She nervously got out of bed. What was she doing following an illusion? She took several steps and reached for his hand.

Suddenly she was in the nursery without knowing how she got there. Mary's eyes went wide as she saw him standing at the crib and waiting for her to approach.

"No, Matthew. I shouldn't…"

"Yes, you should," he nodded. "You must."

She swallowed and came by his side. Her hands were shaking as she held on to the rail and looked down at the sleeping baby.

"He's beautiful. Just like his Mama," Matthew beamed proudly.

"He reminds me of you," Mary sighed. "He looks too much like you. I'm afraid I'm not a very good mother. The truth is I don't think I ever will be."

Matthew looked at her, seeing the same desperation on her face from before. She looked lost and helpless.

"You don't mean that."

Mary turned to him with sad eyes. Blue. Blond. A worried frown.

"When you…" she closed her eyes, then opened them and tried again. "Since you've been gone, the softness in me, everything nice and good that you saw, has dried up and gone away as well. I don't know if it was ever there, truly, or whether it was just in your imagination."

"I didn't imagine any of it," Matthew said firmly. "You're a wonderful woman, and you'll be a wonderful mother."

He looked back at George sleeping in his crib. Mary turned back and looked at her son.

"Do you remember the night he was conceived?"

Mary's mouth fell open and she turned, setting fiery eyes on her husband, or whatever this thing was to her that looked and sounded just like him.

"Matthew! That's entirely not proper to speak of!" she hissed.

"Nanny won't hear us," he laughed. "Answer me."

Mary glanced over at Nanny, sleeping soundly in a rocking chair. She looked back at Matthew. His confident stare was too much for her and she could not help but blush.

"Yes," she admitted.

"You were rather inventive that evening, I must say."

"You were quite flexible," she retorted, and blushed again.

"Give George a kiss and let's let him sleep."

Mary leaned over and tenderly touched her son's brow, kissing him adoringly and without regret for the first time since she held him when he was born.

As she turned towards the door, Matthew reached out and wrapped his arm around her shoulders.

Mary shivered as she felt a strange sensation across her back and shoulders.

"How can I feel you touching me?" she whispered.

"Because I am touching you. And you do feel it."

She was lying in bed once more, Matthew lying beside her. She would glance at him, then look away, as if she were scared to accept what her eyes were seeing. Matthew stayed still, allowing her time to process everything, or at least to begin to process everything. Before Mary could turn back again, they heard a knock at her door and they both looked up.

"Cousin Violet…" Matthew whispered.

"Granny," Mary said shakily.

Violet Crawley stepped forward into the room, holding her cane to her side and gazing sympathetically at her granddaughter.

"I suppose you think I behaved very badly down there," Mary said plainly, glancing between Violet and Matthew, watching for any sign that her Granny could see what Mary was seeing.

"My dear I'm not really very interested in whether you behaved badly or well," Violet replied.

"No?"

"No, I'm not your governess. I'm your grandmother."

"And the difference is?"

"The difference is I love you."

Matthew smirked. For the first time since his arrival he felt a wistfulness that had no trace of bitterness to it. He missed conversations with Violet when she let her guard down.

"I'm going to let you talk to your Granny, darling. I'll be back."

"No, please," Mary whispered, not looking at him.

Granny looked at her quizzically.

"It's all right, Mary. I'm still here. Talk to her," Matthew implored.

"Mary, you've gone through a hideous time. But now you must remember your son. He needs you…very much. The fact is, you have a straightforward choice to make. You must choose either death or life."

Mary turned and looked at Matthew.

"And you think I should choose life?"

"Yes," Matthew nodded.

"Yes," Violet said.

Mary looked away from Matthew. She was silent for several moments before finally meeting her Granny's eyes.

"I don't know if I'm ready, Granny. I don't know when I will be," she said carefully. Mary looked back at Matthew. "But I am beginning to understand what I must do."

Violet nodded. "Good night, my dear."

"Good night, Granny," Mary said, keeping her eyes on Matthew as Violet left the room, closing the door behind her.

Mary turned fully on to her side and looked at him, willing herself not to blink as she looked up and down his body. He was wearing a suit, not the one he wore when…when he had driven to Downton Abbey from the hospital. A different one.

"You act as if you've never been to bed with your husband before," Matthew smiled. "Now go to sleep."

"What if when I wake up you're not…"

"Then I'll come back."

"When?"

"When you need me."

"I need you now."

"And look, here I am."

"And tomorrow? And next year? And when George has a birthday, or has questions only his Papa can answer?" she was breathing hard, keeping her eyes fixed on his.

"I'll be there. I'll be there and we'll get through it together. I'll speak to you and you'll speak to him and we'll raise our son."

"You mean I'll do the heavy lifting and you'll do nothing but talk and give orders."

The smile was wide now. "I doubt I could boss anyone with you around, darling."

"Matthew Crawley!" she admonished him.

"Not too sad to scold your husband all of a sudden?"

Mary swallowed, looking away before looking back at him. Blue. Blond. A mischievous smile.

"Granny couldn't see you. She couldn't hear you."

"No," Matthew shook his head. "I wish it was different, but I'm here for you, only for you."

"I don't understand."

"It will take time. Go to sleep, Mary. You're tired. It's been a very long day."

"I…I don't want to close my eyes."

"We just talked about this."

"But if I don't see you in the morning, then I'll wish I hadn't gone to sleep."

"Who says you aren't going to see me when you _do_ go to sleep?"

Her eyes widened in recollection of a particularly graphic dream she had just last night.

"No, it's impossible," she whispered in disbelief.

"What would your parents and your Granny say if they knew what you dreamed about last night?" Matthew knew he should be careful with her, but he could not help it. He had missed her too much to be detached and stoic with her.

"Matthew! It's entirely permitted for me to dream about my husband." Her face was crimson now.

"I think the last time we tried _that_ particular position was in Cannes during the Honeymoon. It didn't work quite as well as in your dream though."

Mary's mouth fell open in shock and Matthew raised an eyebrow to her and gave her a teasing smile.

"Keep talking like that and there are some rather unpleasant things I could dream about doing to you as well," Mary huffed.

Mary told herself she could not hear the laugh and could not feel the kiss on her lips, but as she closed her eyes and drifted off to the first peaceful sleep she'd had in months, she could not care any longer what was real and what was not. He was somehow there, still beside her, and for one evening she was not alone and did not feel overwhelmingly sad.

And he was right.

She did dream about him.

Vividly.

**Dower House, Downton Village, England, February 1922**

"Lady Grantham, this is truly delicious."

"Thank you, Lady Shackleton," Violet replied with a polite smile.

Molesley stepped forward and bowed to Lady Shackleton.

"More wine, Your Ladyship?" he asked.

"Yes, thank you," Lady Shackleton smiled at the butler. "That's very considerate of you."

"Molesley has years of experience," Edith noted, taking the subtle cue from her Granny to speak up. "He served my late brother-in-law for years."

"Ah yes, Mr. Crawley," Lady Shackleton shook her head. "A terrible loss. How is your sister Mary coping?"

"She's…" Edith stopped as Violet coughed quietly. "She's managing, thank you. I'm afraid she's still in mourning."

"Understandably so. It was such a shock," Lady Shackleton said respectfully.

"Yes, yes," Violet agreed, casting a glance at Edith and raising her eyebrow.

"It is good to see you again, Molesley," Edith said with slightly more enthusiasm than necessary. "We do appreciate you making yourself available to assist today."

"Thank you for the opportunity, Lady Edith, Your Ladyship," Molesley bowed, stepping back and out of the way.

"What is Molesley busying himself with? Is he assisting your Cousin Isobel, Lady Grantham?"

"No," Violet said sympathetically. "She doesn't require him being in a small home with just herself there. My son has a use for him, but Downton is rather over staffed, what with fewer events taking place and all."

Edith frowned and looked at her Granny, who looked briefly at her with wide eyes. Edith composed herself.

"I could have a use for a butler. Mine's just retired, you see."

Molesley swallowed, stopping himself from speaking up as he caught Edith's glare.

"Well I don't know if Robert can spare Molesley. He is quite good at what he does, you know. And one can never have enough trained staff," Violet said sagely.

"We could speak to Papa, I'm sure," Edith said pointedly. "Lady Shackleton should not be caught out without proper help," Edith smiled at their guest.

"Yes I suppose you're right, Edith," Violet agreed quickly. "Why don't I send Molesley over tomorrow and you can discuss arrangements with him?"

"I look forward to it," Lady Shackleton smiled. "He's done quite well today, what with handling our luncheon on his own."

Molesley grit his teeth to stop a triumphant yell from leaving his mouth.

"Yes, where is Spratt?" Edith asked.

"I'm not sure. He must have busied himself in the kitchen. It's no matter. We are in good hands with Molesley, aren't we?"

"Indeed," Lady Shackelton nodded. "These flowers are lovely, Lady Grantham. From your own garden, I presume?"

"Yes," Violet smiled. "The winter has been light and the blooms are much better than expected at this time."

"I wish I had your skill," Lady Shackleton shook her head. "My garden has been rather neglected as of late. My roses need rescuing as it were. Just this morning I noticed the ground had been trampled. I found that very peculiar."

"How fortuitous then," Edith smiled. "Mr. Molesley Sr. is almost as skilled as Granny at gardening, and with roses in particular."

Violet frowned at Edith. "I suppose that could true," she said with great difficulty. "I'm sure Molesley would be pleased to have his father assist you, Lady Shackleton."

"Splendid," Lady Shackleton smiled, sipping her wine.

Following luncheon, Lady Shackleton confirmed her appointment with Molesley for the next day, then left with a pleasant goodbye. Molesley was embarrassingly profuse in his thanks to both Edith and Violet for the referral.

The door to the kitchen suddenly burst open and Spratt came out into the hall, his face flustered.

"Where have you been?" Violet frowned at her butler. "You've missed all of luncheon!"

"I beg your forgiveness, Your Ladyship," Spratt pleaded. "I was somehow locked in the pantry."

"Lucky for you that Molesley was auditioning for Lady Shackleton, otherwise I would have half a mind to give him your job." Violet rolled her eyes and turned back to say goodbye to Edith.

Spratt and Molesley looked at each other. Spratt's mouth opened in shock. He assumed Molesley was after his job and he went to the pantry to look for something to ruin the soup and hopefully sabotage Molesley's efforts. The door had closed on him and stuck in place somehow, trapping him inside.

Molesley was too surprised at his good fortune to bother with Spratt. He bowed deeply to Edith and Violet and said goodbye.

Molesley left Dower House with a wide grin and a light step. He practically skipped down the lane.

Matthew came around the front from the servants' entrance. He watched Molesley disappear into the distance.

"Best of luck to you, Molesley," he smiled at his former valet.

**Downton Abbey, England, February 1922**

"Milady, I've brought you a tray for lunch," Anna said quietly as she came into the bedroom.

"Thank you, Anna," Mary replied blankly. She stood looking out the window. She spent the morning wandering around the house, peeking in corners, looking in different rooms, searching for some sign of him. When she could not find him, she returned to their bedroom and looked out the window, to the same place where she thought she saw him months ago. He was nowhere to be found.

Anna placed the tray on the side table.

"Will that be all, Milady," Anna bowed, unsure as to what to say. Lady Mary's mood had been so sad and dark for so many months, Anna did not know how to help her anymore.

"Yes, that's fine," Mary replied, turning back from the window with a sigh. She was almost angry with herself for believing in what happened last night. It had seemed so real. He seemed real. His promises to return to her when she needed him seemed real. But Mary realized to her dismay that in the cold light of day, she was once again alone.

"Very well, Milady," Anna answered. She was about to leave when she decided to try a different tack.

"I'm pleased to see you went and got some flowers, Milady. They're very lovely. They make the room look much brighter."

"What are you talking about, Anna? I didn't get any…"

Mary stared as she saw for the first time a vase holding a dozen red English roses placed on her vanity.

"I thought you had arranged for them, Milady," Anna said in a confused voice. "None of us downstairs have seen them before, and they weren't here last night."

"Yes, of course," Mary recovered quickly. "I ordered them weeks ago with Mama. I met the delivery boy just this morning. They are lovely, aren't they?"

"Yes, Milady. They certainly are."

Mary turned to her Lady's maid and looked at her earnestly. "Anna, I wanted to say…well, I…Thank you, Anna. Thank you for everything."

"Of course, Milady," Anna nodded and left.

Mary went to her vanity and sat down. She stared at the flowers for several minutes, studying them. She felt the tears well in her eyes and she did not mind this time. This time, the first time since last September, her tears were not tears of sadness or despondency. She reached out with shaky fingers and touched the soft petals lightly.

"Matthew," she whispered, her lips quivering.

"Do you like them?"

Mary closed her eyes, a few tears falling down her cheek. She breathed deeply. She smiled.

"I love them," she whispered.

"I'm sorry I wasn't here when you woke up, darling. I went down to see what Robert and Tom were up to, and I had other business I had to deal with over luncheon. You looked so peaceful sleeping I didn't want to wake you."

Mary swallowed. She kept her eyes closed.

"Mary?"

Mary shook her head.

Matthew looked at her. He leaned closer. No reaction.

He reached for her slowly and pressed his hand to her cheek.

Mary gasped.

"Mary?"

She grimaced, trying to block out the warmth she felt on her face, the rapid beating of her heart, the giddiness that filled her at the sound of his voice. He wasn't there. He couldn't be there. She could not allow herself to believe in him.

Matthew leaned forward and kissed the top of her head.

"Happy Valentine's Day, my darling."

Mary opened her eyes and stared into the mirror of the vanity. Slowly she turned in her chair, lifting her gaze to confirm with her eyes what her mirror had shown her. Blue. Blond. An adorable look of love and concern.

"I must be mad," she whispered.

Matthew smiled at her. "You aren't mad. Far from it. You just need help, and I'm here to help you."

Mary stood up.

"But how? How are you here? How can I see you and hear you? How can you touch me and deliver flowers and…"

Her eyes darted across him, taking in his suit, his features unchanged from months ago, exactly how she remembered him before far worse images of him had filled her mind. There was no blood, no cuts, no bruises. Only Matthew in all of his handsome glory that she had been denied for too long.

Matthew smiled. "I'll explain everything, in due time. For now, eat your lunch."

Mary lifted one of the sandwiches and took a careful bite, keeping her eyes on Matthew as she ate.

* * *

Carson looked over his ledgers, squinting as he peered at the numbers.

"I knew it!" he mumbled to himself.

A soft knock sounded behind him.

"Mrs. Hughes, I was correct," he called out, his back to the door. "The mail has been progressively late in the past three months. Deliveries have been a full four minutes later in February than they were in…"

Carson turned, expecting to see Mrs. Hughes standing in his doorway. He swallowed and grew silent when he realized who his visitor in fact was.

"My Lady," Carson nodded.

"Carson," Mary said shakily.

Mary stood in the doorway. She bit her lower lip, unable to step forward and unable to speak. Seeing him reminded her of the last time she had spoken to him, or more accurately, berated him, and she felt ashamed and embarrassed at the recollection.

"Go on, Mary," Matthew whispered.

Mary looked to her left, then back at Carson as she stepped into his room.

"How may I be of service, My Lady?" Carson asked, keeping his sense of dread at bay with a shield of professionalism.

"Carson, I wish to…to apologize for my behaviour the other day. When you suggested that I help Tom with the Estate, I know you had good intentions, but unfortunately all I could think of was…" her voice caught.

Carson looked at her, concern growing across his face.

"All I could think of," Mary continued. "Was that by doing anything, anything at all, would be an acknowledgement, an acceptance that Matthew was truly gone. And I…I don't believe I'm strong enough to admit that just yet."

Mary felt a tightening in her stomach and she raised her chin, trying to keep the tears back through the absurd strategy of tilting her head.

"My Lady," Carson said softly, taking a step from behind his desk towards her. "No apology is necessary. I do not mean to suggest that you must say goodbye to Mr. Crawley. We were all very fond of him. But I…all of us...want to help you move on, when you're ready."

"Thank you Carson," Mary choked out. "It's just that I…"

Mary looked back at the doorway. Matthew nodded to her.

Mary shut her eyes hard before opening them and turning back towards Carson.

"I don't know anything about running an Estate, or about Matthew's plans. I have some ideas, but Papa says he doesn't need me to do anything," Mary said quickly.

"My Lady," Carson said cautiously. "If I may say so, it's time that you returned to the land of the living. You must stand for what you believe in, even if it's against his Lordship's wishes."

Mary's lip quivered and she closed her eyes.

"I don't know how, Carson. I don't know how to move on!" she sobbed, the tears falling as she opened her eyes. Her chest was tight. Her breathing quickened. The room seemed even smaller than she remembered it suddenly. Her legs felt weak.

Carson crossed the distance between them and tentatively put his arms around her. Mary closed her eyes and fell into his embrace. She cried. She cried and made no effort to stop.

"You'll find a way, My Lady," Carson said softly. "And I will be here for you, until you're strong enough."

* * *

"So Cora just dismissed her on the spot?" Matthew asked.

"She did. You would have also if you heard the vile things she said," Mary replied.

"Did she do anything to..."

"No," Mary said quickly. "George is perfectly all right. And we'll have a new Nanny soon enough. A proper one."

"Well hopefully Cora finds a better one."

"I'm going to find one," Mary said plainly.

Matthew looked at her and smirked.

"You look beautiful, by the way," Matthew said quietly as they walked down the hall.

"I don't feel beautiful," Mary replied. "And I don't see the difference between black and purple. It's a minor variation."

"There is a difference, a fairly important one," Matthew said easily.

"You promised me an explanation," Mary said quietly.

"I'll answer all of the questions you have, after we deal with today's business."

They stopped in front of the door. Mary slowly turned and looked at him. Blue. Blond. A reassuring smile.

"How many acres of arable land is contained on the west side of…"

"54 on the Smith property, 160 on the Adams land," Mary shot back immediately.

Matthew smiled. "See? You're getting the hang of it."

"My teacher is a bit of a taskmaster," Mary raised her eyebrow to him.

"Good luck, my darling. I'll be right behind you."

Mary looked straight ahead and took a deep breath. She pushed open the door and walked confidently into the room.

Lord Grantham's eyes were wide as his daughter walked in and greeted the tenants, apologizing for being late to the luncheon.

The tenants looked at each other in surprise. They greeted Lady Mary with respect before carefully taking their seats.

Tom smiled wide as he gladly ceded his chair at the table to his sister-in-law. He was surprised when she gave him a knowing look and a small nod in thanks for his efforts in encouraging her to come out.

Matthew stood behind his wife, surveying the scene before him. He knew Robert was scared. He knew the Earl was afraid of venturing into new territory without his son-in-law around to help him. Matthew looked at Tom. Tom was scared as well. Matthew was thankful for his courage and his willingness to plunge into the unknown for the sake of Matthew's memory and for the sake of the children and the rest of the family. The three of them were supposed to be on the same team, just like at last year's Cricket match, working together despite their differences to guide Downton through all the future could throw at them.

Matthew sighed, looking from Robert to Tom and then finally resting his eyes on Mary.

"Mary," Matthew whispered into her ear. "Why don't you show these men how much you like a good argument?"

Mary straightened her shoulders and looked around the table, meeting each man's eyes confidently. She felt a warm touch on her shoulder and she had to resist reaching her hand up and touching the presence she now was certain was there. Her voice was firm and confident as she spoke.

"Now Mr. Taylor, what's all this I hear about you giving up sheep?"


	3. Her Husband's Letter

**Previously:**

**The Reunion:**

**Downton Abbey, England, February 1922**

Matthew stood behind his wife, surveying the scene before him. He knew Robert was scared. He knew the Earl was afraid of venturing into new territory without his son-in-law around to help him. Matthew looked at Tom. Tom was scared as well. Matthew was thankful for his courage and his willingness to plunge into the unknown for the sake of Matthew's memory and for the sake of the children and the rest of the family.

"Mary," Matthew whispered into her ear. "Why don't you show these men how much you like a good argument?"

Mary straightened her shoulders and looked around the table, meeting each man's eyes confidently. She felt a warm touch on her shoulder and she had to resist reaching her hand up and touching the presence she now was certain was there. Her voice was firm and confident as she spoke.

"Now Mr. Taylor, what's all this I hear about you giving up sheep?"

**Her Husband's Letter:**

**Downton Abbey, England, February 1922**

"I don't think we've ever spent this much time in the bedroom during the day, even when we were newlyweds."

Mary blushed, then rolled her eyes at Matthew. He was lying back against his pillow, smirking at her.

"Well it's not as though we can converse properly in the sitting room. What would Carson think if he came in and found me talking to thin air? It would probably scare him half to…." she froze, unable to finish her phrase.

Matthew smiled and placed his hand over hers. Mary swallowed. She could see his hand upon hers and she could feel the warmth of his touch, even though her mind was telling her his hand wasn't real and couldn't actually be touching her.

"It's all right to make jokes. You can't possibly be afraid that you'll offend me or hurt my feelings, can you?" he said encouragingly.

Mary stared him in the eyes. She sighed as she naturally glanced down at his smirking lips then back up to the blue orbs she had lost herself in so many times.

"I'm afraid of betraying you, of failing you," she whispered.

"Mary," Matthew said sympathetically. "You won't. Why would you think that?"

She shut her eyes and shook her head before meeting his gaze again.

"Because I'm weak!" she spat out. "I'm cold and heartless. Everyone knows that, except you! I had the most wonderful man in the world to love, and I wasted it for years. Years, Matthew! And by the time I finally got around to realizing it and truly appreciating you, I lost you!"

"Mary…" he reached for her again but she quickly got out of bed and turned away from him, looking out the window. She ran her hands along her shivering arms.

"How do you know for certain that I won't just run off with the next rich aristocrat who comes along or the next handsome face I see?" she asked bitterly, her back still turned to him. "That's what I do, you know? All I care about is money and excitement and finding a man with a title to worship me. Raising your child, fulfilling your plans for the Estate, they mean nothing to me. I'll let you down. I'll betray you, Matthew. I'll betray you because I don't deserve you. I'm not the woman you think I am."

Mary closed her eyes and sobbed. Before his return, she had not thought about him watching her. But now that he was somehow here and he could see how paralyzed she had become, she felt overwhelmed and lost.

Last week's tenants' luncheon was a breakthrough. The discussion had been interesting and she felt engaged and stimulated as she listened and asked questions and took an active role in debating the future of Downton. With Matthew standing behind her and giving her suggestions here and there, she felt so differently than she had for the past six months. She felt alive.

She was cautious at dinner now, making very little conversation but not fleeing either. Having Matthew beside her helped immensely. The discussion topics were mundane and safe, everyone steering clear of anything that might set her off. Rather than go through, she usually retired early and after Anna had readied her for bed, she would lay with Matthew, talking about whatever came to mind and Estate matters until she fell asleep. She thought she had a run of decent days, days when nothing catastrophic had befallen her, or befallen them.

But from time to time Mary remembered the look and words of her Papa. He didn't think she was ready to take on any responsibility. He didn't think she had anything to contribute to Downton, to the future of the Estate. He didn't believe in her. Frankly, thinking about what may lie ahead for her, she didn't know if she believed in herself either.

It was one thing to carry on without her husband, to float through each day and rely upon Anna and Nanny and her family to deal with George while she willed the hours to pass. It was an entirely different challenge to live this new life in this new era with all of these responsibilities that she had never carried before.

Mary gasped as she felt warmth around her shoulders, then down her arms and across her waist, a loving embrace hugging her close to someone she could not deny was standing right behind her.

"Darling, as embarrassed as I am to admit that your cold facade may have worked years ago on Matthew Crawley, newly arrived heir to Lord Grantham, I'm afraid to inform you that your illusions have no power over Matthew Crawley, your husband. You could never fail me. You could never betray me. I want you to live your life. I want you to have everything that you deserve. And you deserve happiness, my darling. You deserve happiness because you are you, and no one else. My Mary. Keep trying to convince me otherwise if you like. I love you and I'm not going anywhere."

She felt warmth on her cheek and she closed her eyes, crying as she knew he was somehow kissing her, despite the impossibility of it. She leaned into him, bringing her arms across her stomach and feeling the warmth of him spread through her.

"I…I don't know, Matthew," she whispered. "Running the Estate, dealing with Papa, everything you're trying to teach me about farms and crop yields and livestock, it all seems so daunting."

"That's enough studying for today. Come back to bed," Matthew whispered, kissing her again. "I promised to answer all of your questions, remember? Surely you must have more. Come back to bed and ask away."

Mary smiled at him, then turned and allowed him to guide her back to their bed.

**Downton Abbey, England, March 1922**

"My Lord."

"What is it, Carson?"

"A delivery my Lord, for Lady Mary," Carson said uneasily, holding a box in front of him.

"Well go and bring it to her then," Robert said, frowning.

"It's from…Mr. Crawley's former law firm, my Lord. It appears to be a box of his belongings."

Robert's eyes widened and he looked over at Violet, who was equally surprised.

"My God," he said.

"Mrs. Hughes was afraid it may be too much for Lady Mary to see in her current state, and I'm afraid I agree, my Lord."

"Bring it here," Robert ordered. Carson placed the box on the table. Robert looked again at his mother, who nodded slightly. Robert opened the box and began looking through its contents. There were small mementos, photos, books and papers. He sifted through them, casting a quick glance over each page. He noticed a white envelope sticking out of a leather bound book placed at the bottom of the box. He took it out and examined it.

The Earl frowned.

* * *

"One thing I still can't understand is that you're here as my Protector," Mary said incredulously. "To protect me from what?"

"Nothing in particular," Matthew replied. "It's more of a position, than a specific task. I told you that the point is that we were supposed to…it wasn't our time to be parted just yet, so I've been granted this grace to be with you for a while longer. That's all I was told."

"How much longer?"

"I don't know exactly. But I'm not here to just idle away the days. Part of it was also that there's problems with the Estate, as you've seen for yourself. So I'm here to help you with that. Robert's scared of the unknown, and so he'll try and cling to the old ways because they're familiar to him. But that outdated way of thinking won't do us any good. He won't listen to Tom. I've already seen it."

"And you think he'll listen to me?"

"He'll have to," Matthew said firmly.

"Just because I'm his daughter?" Mary asked in disbelief.

"Something like that," Matthew replied cryptically.

Mary blinked, her mind reeling. They had established a daily routine over the past weeks. They would walk together after breakfast, then go up to their bedroom after luncheon. Between learning about the Estate and other matters involving the Village, Mary set aside time to ask questions of Matthew. How had he come back? How could only she see and hear him? What was his purpose here? What should they do next? The answers Matthew gave her did not put her entirely at ease. Each one seemed to lead to more questions.

"Before…before you came back, did you…" she paused, closing her eyes. "Did you ever see…"

"No," Matthew said quietly, covering her hand in his. "I was hoping that I would see her. I thought she may already be down here, watching Tom and Sybbie perhaps, looking after everyone like she always did. But I never saw her. My father, and others, I never got the chance to see them either."

Mary nodded in understanding. "I'm sorry," she said, unable to think of anything else.

"So am I," he smiled wanly at her. "It would have been nice to see them, if only for a brief moment. I suppose it's not the proper time yet."

"I still can't believe it. I know it's been weeks now and you've been here every night and every morning when I've woken up and all I need to do is think of you and you're here. But I can't believe you're actually here," Mary whispered.

"Are you sorry that I am? Is it too difficult for you?" He looked at her nervously.

"Of course not!" Mary almost shouted at him. "It is unexpected and overwhelming," she said, smiling carefully. "But no matter what this is, no matter how long it lasts, I could never be sorry for it. It's just that I have so many questions still."

"I'm afraid I don't have all the answers," Matthew replied. "But we can figure it out together."

Mary nodded. She looked down at their joined hands once again.

"I don't understand how you can touch me, how I can feel you." Mary blushed as she framed her next question. "Would it be possible for you to…"

They were interrupted by a knock on the door. Mary looked at Matthew, then sat up in bed.

"Come in," she called.

Anna opened the door and bowed.

"I'm sorry, Milady, but His Lordship is asking for you. He needs to see you in the parlour."

"Did he say why?" Mary asked, not wanting to leave her conversation with Matthew.

"Mr. Carson brought him a delivery this morning. It was a box…from Mr. Matthew's law firm, addressed to you."

Mary's eyes widened and she looked over at Matthew. His own eyes lit up in recognition.

"Let's go," Matthew said.

"I'll be down in a minute," Mary instructed Anna, who bowed and left.

"What is it?" Mary asked as they rose from bed.

"I'll explain on the way," Matthew assured her as they left the room.

"It has to be the personal effects from my office," Matthew said to Mary as they walked through the Great Hall. "Why it took them six months to deliver them to you is anyone's guess. There's a book that should be there that you must find, containing an envelope."

"What book is it?" Mary whispered.

Matthew smiled at her. "Actually it's the _Tale of Andromeda_ by Euripides."

Mary stopped in her tracks and looked at him. "Really?" she asked in an amused tone, raising her eyebrow at him.

"I found a copy in London. It seemed appropriate to keep that story handy."

"So you could remind yourself that you're my Perseus rather than the sea monster?"

"Actually I was more focused on the part about you being chained naked to a rock. That part of the story has lived in my memory from the moment you mentioned it at dinner all those years ago."

Mary rolled her eyes and smiled at him as they went through to the parlour.

"Mary, we received this box for you from Harvell & Carter today," Robert stated, motioning to the opened box on the table. "Containing Matthew's belongings from the office."

"Why did you open it without me?" Mary asked, crossing the room quickly.

"I thought it best to look over it first, to make sure there was nothing that could disturb you," the Earl said defensively.

"It's a box of my husband's things, Papa," Mary said icily. "I'll be the judge of what I find disturbing or not."

Mary ignored him as she looked through the box intently. Matthew stood beside her.

Mary smiled upon seeing the toy dog.

"I've been looking for this. I should have known you would have kept it," she said.

"I'm sorry?" Robert asked, staring at her.

"Robert, give the girl some space! Come over here and leave her be!" Violet called.

The Earl of Grantham slowly walked over and took a seat on the sofa. All eyes were on Mary but she didn't care. She was solely occupied with looking through this unexpected trove of Matthew's things.

"Of course I kept it," Matthew smiled. "Still not a scratch on it, by the way."

Mary sighed as she took out their framed wedding portrait. She had seen it numerous times on his office desk in Ripon, but finding it now filled her with a joyful sense of nostalgia.

"I think the only other time you've looked more beautiful to me was the day you showed me our son," Matthew kissed her cheek. "The day you told me you were pregnant and the day you accepted my proposal would be a close third and fourth."

"Your hair was blonder back then," Mary teased.

She set aside some papers and found the leather bound _Tale of Andromeda_ by Euripides. On a nod from Matthew, she picked it up and flipped through it. Other than the typewritten script, the pages were empty.

"It's not there," Matthew frowned, before he looked up from the box and across the room.

"Of course," he sighed.

Mary followed his gaze.

"Is that all there was?" she asked her father pointedly.

"There was something else," Violet nodded, looking over at Robert.

"We found a letter, addressed to you," Robert began, rising from the sofa and holding up an open white envelope.

"From Matthew? For me to read?" Mary asked coldly, underscoring the fact that her husband's last letter should not have been kept from her.

"Yes," Robert answered nervously.

"Give it to me," she stepped forward and snatched it from her Papa's hand.

"He's read it," Matthew said as Mary opened up the letter and scanned it quickly. "He's going to question…"

"Matthew's named me as his sole heiress," Mary declared, raising the letter towards her Papa. "Don't you think I should have known about this right away?"

"We don't know if it's legal, Mary," Robert countered.

"Typical," Matthew snarled, shaking his head. He turned to Mary and spoke quickly to her.

"It's a signed letter from Matthew expressing his wish for me to be his heiress, that I take charge while George is a child, and he's gone to the trouble of having it witnessed by two of his colleagues," Mary repeated, adding her own ire to her husband's words. "How could you doubt his intentions, Papa?"

"I don't doubt that he wrote the letter, nor what he wished," Robert said evenly. "But I want Murray to look at it, so we can be sure it's a legal will and will hold up."

"So why bother showing it to me at all?" Mary asked venomously. "You could have just shipped it straight to London, given me this box and I'd have been none the wiser!"

"Mary!" Robert recoiled in shock.

"She has a point, Robert," Violet interjected.

Robert glared at his mother before turning back to his seething daughter.

"I thought about it, to spare you the disappointment if it goes against you, but your Granny told me that I shouldn't."

Violet smiled triumphantly.

"Have Murray look at it as much as you wish," Mary said firmly. "Matthew wouldn't have written it if he didn't believe it would withstand scrutiny. Cousin Isobel is coming to dinner tonight. I'd like to see you explain your motives in front of my dead husband's mother and see what she and the rest of the family have to say." Mary glared at her father and gave him back the letter.

Robert took it back and looked away, unable to meet Mary's fierce expression.

"Carson, please have Matthew's things brought to _our _bedroom where they belong," Mary ordered, keeping her eyes on her father.

"Yes, My Lady," Carson said uncomfortably.

Mary left the room quickly. Matthew took one last look at Robert and Violet before he followed her.

* * *

The mood at dinner started as it often had these past months. Everyone was cautious and careful, stealing glances at Mary and going over their thoughts to ensure they did not say anything to upset her.

Isobel looked at her daughter-in-law curiously as the first course was cleared away. Mary had stopped wearing black, something Isobel had not yet been able to do. The change in attire was an improvement, but there was something different about Mary this evening. Her face was slightly less pale, her shoulders slightly more straight and her chin slightly more raised. There was something else though, something Isobel could not detect until she saw Mary look over to her father. It was her eyes. Mary's eyes were lit with a fire that Isobel had not seen since George was born.

"Everyone," Mary's voice called. "Papa has an announcement."

"Does he?" Cora asked curiously, looking at Robert.

Robert cleared his throat and hesitated.

"About what exactly?" Tom asked.

"Papa received a letter today. A letter from Matthew," Mary replied.

"What?" Isobel blurted out.

"It was written months ago, before we left for Duneagle," Robert explained slowly.

"It was written to me," Mary added coldly. "But Papa has read it, and so it is only fitting that he share it with all of you now. Wouldn't you agree, Papa?"

Mary felt her anger boiling as she again remembered that her father had read Matthew's letter before she had. She felt warmth along her shoulders and she shook her head slightly, anticipating her husband's conciliatory tone.

"Give him a chance, Mary," Matthew said quietly.

"No," Mary hissed between her teeth. While her response was angry, she leaned slightly back in her chair, allowing Matthew's hands to travel over her shoulders and arms.

Robert carefully took out the letter and unfolded it in front of him. He did not dare look at Isobel, who gasped at the sight of a message from her son.

"It reads," Robert began. "_My darling Mary, we are off to Duneagle in the morning and I have suddenly realised that I've never made a will or anything like one, which seems pretty feeble for a lawyer and you being pregnant makes it even more irresponsible. I'll do it properly when I get back and tear this up before you ever see it but I'll feel easier that I've recorded on paper that I wish you to be my sole heiress. I cannot know if our baby is a boy or a girl but I do know it will be a baby, if anything happens to me before I've drawn up a will and so you must take charge. And now I shall sign this and get off home for dinner with you. What a lovely, lovely thought. Matthew."_

"Oh, my dear boy," Isobel said quietly, swallowing hard. She dabbed her eyes with her napkin.

"So Matthew named you his sole heiress," Tom repeated slowly.

"He did," Mary declared. "He did not want his share of the Estate to pass to George before he reached adulthood. Matthew wanted me to look after our son, and his inheritance."

"Well then," Cora smiled. "You'll run half the Estate with Papa."

"Not exactly," Mary said pointedly.

"Why not?" Cora asked.

"Ask Papa," Mary stared at her father.

"Mary, do not forget that I am still…" Robert began.

"What is Mary talking about, Robert?" Cora asked.

"Yes, please enlighten all of us," Violet added.

"Papa is having Matthew's letter reviewed to see if it's a legal will. He needs the Courts to tell him whether or not to follow my husband's wishes," Mary's tone was scathing now.

"But why? Matthew's words are clear," Tom asked.

"We need to be sure that…" Robert answered.

"Papa doesn't trust me to run half the Estate," Mary interrupted. "He'd rather have it all for himself, just as he did before my husband's inheritance saved Downton."

"I ran this Estate for years, just as my father did before me," Robert countered. "It was thanks to me that you've enjoyed a life of privilege from the time you and your sisters were children!"

"Well I'm not a child anymore, am I, Papa?" Mary shot back.

Robert sighed.

"Mary, I'm simply saying I don't know if you're ready for this. I can't believe Matthew would have expected you'd be thrust into this situation so quickly."

"Of course I didn't expect it!" Matthew huffed in Mary's ear. "That doesn't mean you aren't capable."

"Matthew deemed me as his heiress, Papa," Mary said, her voice hard as steel. "He could have very easily transferred his share to you in trust for George. He specifically chose not to do so. That's rather telling, don't you think?"

"Mary! What are you saying?" Cora asked.

"I'm saying my husband trusted me to carry out his wishes and his plans. Matthew believed in me," Mary said pointedly, looking at Robert.

"There's so much you don't know, Mary," Robert shook his head. "You aren't ready for this."

"Oh, this is rich," Matthew snarled. "Let's just see, shall we?"

Robert shook his head.

"Do you have any idea what it takes to run an Estate, Mary? Do any of you truly appreciate what is involved?" Robert looked around the table. "Matthew had many…ideas…yes, but even he was hardly experienced in our way of life. He saw numbers and statistics, efficiencies and modernisation. This is my life's work!" he declared.

"Matthew saw the direction we were headed in," Mary said calmly. "We all did, but none of us had the courage to do anything about it, except him. We assumed everything would work itself out without any clue as to how that would happen. But for my husband persevering in the face of everyone, including me, steadfastly clinging to outdated traditions, we'd have lost Downton already."

"Outdated?!" Robert roared. "Who are you to judge what you do not understand, Mary? You're out of your element, my dear, I'm afraid. Attending a tenant's luncheon will not prepare you for managing an entire Estate. Do you even know when we harvest crops?"

"We used to harvest in early October, but Matthew changed it to late September so we wouldn't lose as much from the colder weather."

Robert blinked in surprise. Isobel looked at Tom.

"She's right," Tom replied.

"Fine. But how would you address the issue of falling prices for crops that we are now facing?"

"Robert!" Violet frowned. "You can hardly expect our Mary to…"

"Prices have declined since the end of the War," Mary replied. "Once our traditional harvest reaches the lump sum payout limits set by the government, it makes no sense to harvest any further. Matthew wanted us to move from traditional crops to raising livestock. It's a more efficient use of the land, and prices have remained steady for years."

Mary's answer was met by stunned silence.

"Right again," Tom said in a near whisper.

"Matthew may have made you privy to his plans," Robert admitted through gritted teeth, "but implementing them is an entirely different exercise. What will you do when the tenants object to your reducing their crops, or raising their rents, or telling them you're replacing their labourers with all of the machines Matthew intended to bring in? Maintaining the way things are is the easiest way to…"

"Tenants, like anyone, are willing to adapt if it is in their interest," Mary said confidently. "They know better than we do the impact falling prices have on their lives. Why, I had a lovely talk with Mrs. Murphy when I went into the Village last week, and she said Mr. Murphy agreed that it made no sense to continue to work the land the same way when they were getting less money for their crops. He's not the only one who thinks that way, either. There are some tenants who are considering giving up farming altogether. If they choose to leave their lands, we could take them back and manage them ourselves. That was part of Matthew's plan."

Robert sputtered.

"I assume you were hoping I wouldn't have the answers," Mary continued, "and that you were attempting to make some sort of point?"

"He's trying to show that a woman's place is in the home," Cora said plainly.

"Oh, well done. Mission accomplished, Robert," Violet smirked.

"Well," Tom responded. "Mary knows far more than we give her credit for. And she already knows a lot about Matthew's plans, and that has value for me. Mrs. Crawley, what do you think?"

All eyes turned to Isobel and she looked at Mary fondly.

"I'm afraid I'm on Mary's side, Robert, if sides there must be," Isobel said firmly.

Mary exchanged a knowing smile with her mother-in-law. She felt warmth on her shoulder and knew without looking that Matthew was thankful for his mother's support, and also sad that he could not speak to her himself.

"There are no sides, not at all," Robert mumbled, barely able to look at Isobel. "I'm pleased if you're pleased." He recovered and cleared his throat. "I'm just saying that running an Estate will be a large undertaking for you, Mary. That is, if Matthew's letter turns out to be valid."

"Which it will," Matthew said strongly.

"Which you very much hope it is not," Violet said to Robert.

* * *

Mary breathed as she sat in the car. Tom came around and got in the driver's side.

"I'll see you out in the field," Matthew said, squeezing her hand.

"Ready?" Tom asked with a smile.

"Let's go. We have work to do, and I have a great deal to learn," Mary replied firmly.

Tom drove them out to the east lands of the Estate. He escorted Mary through some brush so they had a view of the fields below. Mary looked out over the land. She knew this area well. She had played here as a child, ridden Diamond across it countless times. But it now looked strange and different to her. As she looked across the vast space, she had difficulty thinking of it in terms of anything more than a simple field, and she was at a loss to understand how to better use this land from a revenue perspective.

"The Earl wants to sell the area from here down past that tree line," Tom pointed. Mary looked in the same direction and nodded.

"Your father isn't wrong, you know," Tom sighed. "The Estate will have to pay Death duties twice if you're Matthew's heiress. The Earl wants to pay off the Death duties in one shot, and he has to sell these lands to afford it. It makes sense to clear the books as soon as possible, I suppose."

Mary frowned. "That doesn't sit well with me," she answered.

Matthew looked at her quizzically.

"Why not?" Matthew asked carefully.

"Why do you say that?" Tom inquired.

Mary looked at Matthew, realizing she had answered without consulting him first. She then looked at Tom, who was waiting on her explanation.

"Well, it doesn't seem very wise to give away land," Mary stated. "Even if you recovered a sufficient return to cover the Death duties, how can you be so sure the value of the land itself won't increase significantly?"

"No one knows what will happen in the future," Tom replied. "And this is fallow land at the moment. It's mainly used for grazing."

"There must be a way we can generate more profit off the land ourselves. That way we can pay the duties, and still keep the land as part of Downton," Mary said. "It's fallow now, but land can have any number of uses."

"Matthew already increased the rents last year," Tom explained. "We can't raise rates again so soon."

"Rent isn't the only way to make money off land," Mary replied. "Besides, Tom, haven't you heard? You're supposed to buy land, not sell it. After all, they aren't making any more of it."

Matthew smiled, putting his arm around his wife's shoulders. "I could not have said it better myself, darling," he said.

"You're doing very well, Tom," Mary smiled at him. "I know we aren't very good at showing it, but all of us appreciate your effort. I know that Matthew is, erm, Matthew would be very grateful."

"I just wish I had paid more attention to when he was mapping everything out," Tom said wistfully. "I keep wondering if I'm doing right by him."

Matthew chuckled.

"You are, Tom," Mary assured him. "He was always grateful for your assistance. He was glad you were on his side."

"He was always on mine. 'We need to stick together' he told me," Tom answered. "Seemed only right to return the favour."

"I remember that conversation," Mary smiled, looking at Matthew. "If we're going to take on the Crawley girls, we have to stick together."

"How right he was," Tom laughed.

They stood silently, thinking of a simpler time, a happier time of fewer challenges and before Death and taxes had invaded their world.

Mary leaned in to Matthew, his soft words soothing in her ear. She looked out over the fields again and saw tractors, rows of crops, roads, livestock pens and cottages. It would be hard work. It would be a gamble, for certain. But there was potential here, even she could see it.

"Let's move on, Tom," Mary said. "If I'm going to stand against Papa selling these lands, I'll need to understand what else is going on as well."

* * *

Dinner went without any confrontation. Estate matters were effectively banned from conversation as the family awaited word from Murray. When the ladies went through, Mary took her customary seat on the sofa by the fire, listening to Matthew while the others spoke amongst themselves. Mary waited for her Papa to come through with word of any news before she decided whether to retire early or not.

Robert came in and called for attention.

"I've heard from Murray. He's looked at Matthew's letter and had it reviewed by another Estate solicitor to be sure."

"Splendid. So a letter written by a lawyer who practiced in wills and estates has now been reviewed by two other lawyers – one who practices in estates and one who does not. And what's the verdict, Papa?"

Robert ignored Mary's caustic tone. "It's valid. Since Matthew had it witnessed by two colleagues and there is a clear intention expressed in writing, it's a suitable substitute for a will. Mary owns half the Estate."

"As we thought," Mary declared.

"We?" Robert questioned.

"Well, Granny certainly agreed with me. And I thought you did as well. Sending the letter to Murray was only out of an abundance of caution, wasn't it?"

"Yes, of course," Robert answered, feeling the eyes of Cora, Isobel and his own mother upon him.

"Well then, now that it's settled, Tom has told me about your plan to sell some of our land to pay the Death duties in one lump sum," Mary stated.

Cora and Violet frowned and looked at Robert.

"Yes, I think to clear those taxes as soon as possible will serve us best. The fewer debts we have the better."

"Since when did he care about clearing debts so promptly?" Matthew hissed. Upon seeing his wife's stare, Matthew held up his hands. "Fine. I'm sorry," he said petulantly.

"I disagree," Mary said. "I'm all in favour of paying the death duties as soon as we can, but selling land isn't the way to do it. Matthew worked very hard so we could buy back some of the farms just last year and consolidate the property around Downton. I won't give them up so soon."

Robert sighed. "We must find the money somewhere, Mary," he said in frustration.

"We have time yet," she said calmly. "The duties can be paid in instalments from the revenues we already take in, if need be, and we'll need to review how we use our land anyway. There may be some efficiencies we're not taking advantage of."

"Instalments? The government doesn't allow taxes to be paid at your discretion, Mary!" Robert said dismissively.

"On the contrary," Mary said calmly. "While it isn't common practice, the tax authorities are willing to negotiate, particularly given that many Estates have not emerged from the War as well as ours. They have a vested interest in ensuring that some of us survive, rather than lead us to ruin by insisting on immediate payment."

"Who told you that?" Robert inquired.

"Matthew did," Mary said pointedly, looking at her husband. "You'll see Papa that my husband told me a great deal. That's how we are…" Mary swallowed. "That's how we were with each other."

"I'm sure your father would be pleased to discuss your ideas with you, dear, and with Tom as well," Cora smiled. "Won't you, Robert?"

"Of course, once there's some substance to them," the Earl said through gritted teeth.

Mary knew when to quit while she was decisively ahead. She struck up a conversation with Isobel while Cora organized a bridge game. Robert sat by the fire and drank his brandy in silence.

Tom and Violet left shortly after Robert's announcement. Mary escorted Isobel to the door when she stated she was going back to Crawley House. Cora bid Isobel goodbye and retired upstairs.

"I am so proud of you, Mary," Isobel smiled, squeezing her daughter-in-law's hands. "And I know Matthew would be proud of you as well. I don't pretend to understand everything you're talking about with the Estate. But I know that if Matthew trusted you to take charge of it, that you'll do what's best for everyone."

"Thank you, Cousin Isobel," Mary smiled. "I'm trying, and I hope to do what Matthew would have wanted."

Matthew smiled and stepped closer to Mary.

"You know," Mary continued. "Matthew would have wanted all of us to try and do our best, that's all. Believe me, I know how empty life can feel without him. But he was always so proud of you, you know? He told me many times how impressed he was that you accomplished so much after his father died. He would want you to do the same now."

Isobel smiled. "You're right, Mary. I am trying. It will take time. It took me a while after Reginald passed and it will probably take me longer this time around, but I'm finding causes to champion once again."

"He would be very pleased to hear that."

"Good night, Mary."

"Good night, Cousin Isobel," Mary nodded, watching her mother-in-law get into the waiting motor before she turned back to the Great Hall.

"Thank you, darling," Matthew smiled against her cheek. "Thank you for taking care of Mother."

"I promised you that I would," Mary smiled back.

"Shall we retire?" he asked.

Mary looked back towards the drawing room. "In a moment. Papa's still up."

"Perhaps you should leave him be," Matthew said. "Let him lick his wounds in peace."

"No," Mary said firmly. "I won't scold him, but if he doesn't understand how things are going to work from now on, we're all lost."

She stepped deliberately back to the drawing room.

Robert stared into the fire, the brandy snifter in one hand. He did not respond when Mary entered the room, and did not move as she came up beside his chair.

"How is it whenever I think I'm doing right by this family, everyone seems to rise up against me?" he asked, still looking straight ahead.

Mary took a moment to look at his face. He wore more wrinkles now, the marks left by War and the loss of a daughter and son-in-law. Mary loved him for his resiliency and was exasperated by his stubbornness, and she imagined he felt much the same way about her.

"I told you before that I'm never against you, and I'm not," she said softly and gently. "But my duty is to Matthew and George now, and I can't let anyone or anything stop me from doing right by them. I want you to help me, Papa. I want you on my side, the same way that Tom and everyone else is. I don't want to face this without you. But I'm going to save Downton, whether you help me or not. And I'm saving it for you as well, whether you believe in me or not."

Mary leaned down and kissed Robert on his cheek. She put her hand on his shoulder and he grudgingly covered it with his own, finally looking up at her.

"Good night, Mary," he said with a forced smile, squeezing her hand in a silent truce.

"Good night, Papa."

"Perhaps telling you to take charge was too strong an order," Matthew mused as they went upstairs. "I suppose I should be thankful I'm on your team in this. I shudder to think of what will befall the poor fool who dares to be against you."

"Since when have you known me to do anything halfway?" Mary retorted, looking at him and smiling. "Now take your wife to bed, please. I'll need my rest if I'm to start carrying out your grand plan."

"Right away, Lady Mary," Matthew smiled.

After Anna helped Mary change, she began the process of preparing her hair for bed.

"I haven't seen your toy dog in years," Anna smiled at the stuffed animal sitting on Mary's vanity.

"Matthew kept it at his office," Mary nodded. "I think I'll keep it here," she said, looking into the mirror and catching Matthew's smiling face looking back at her and only her. "To remind myself that Matthew's on my side."

Anna smiled and nodded as she pulled the combs from Mary's hair.

"There's no need to braid my hair tonight, Anna," Mary said quietly. "Just leave it down."

"Very well, Milady." Anna looked at her quizzically as she began brushing out Mary's hair. The only time Mary wore her hair loose without a braid was for Mr. Matthew, Anna thought.

After Anna was dismissed, Mary came to bed, smiling at her husband as she slipped beneath the covers.

"There's something I've been meaning to ask you," Mary said, blushing slightly.

"Yes?"

"How…erm…why are you wearing pyjamas?"

Matthew looked down at his pyjamas and smirked.

"As opposed to what?" he smiled at her.

"Well, it isn't as though you need to change clothes," Mary said carefully.

"Would you rather I not wear anything?" Matthew asked in a low voice.

Mary blushed but looked boldly upon him. "If you like," Mary said daringly.

"Lie back and close your eyes," Matthew said tenderly.

"Why?" Mary raised her eyebrow at him.

"Because I want to tell you something," he smiled back.

Mary lay back on the pillow, looking at him.

"I don't like closing my eyes around you, you know that."

"Here," Matthew said, reaching over and caressing her cheek. The warmth of him spread across that side of her face and she smiled, leaning into his hand.

"Do you feel that? Close your eyes, Mary. Close your eyes and know that I'm still here with you. And I'll be here when you open your eyes."

Mary closed her eyes, moving closer to the warm touch on her face. She sighed in contentment.

"As you know, I wrote that letter as a precaution, a contingency since we didn't have a proper will prepared before the baby was born," he said.

Mary nodded, keeping her eyes closed.

"If I had known…if I knew those would be the last words you would have from me, I would have edited it slightly."

Mary opened her eyes and stared at him. "In what way, exactly?"

"Mary…"

She rolled her eyes. "Fine."

She closed her eyes once more, the warm touch of his hand on her cheek remaining.

"First, I wouldn't have merely written that I was looking forward to having dinner with you," he smirked. "I would have written how very sorry I was to leave you far too soon, and to not have a lifetime with you and our child. I would have written that I loved you more than words could possibly express, and that you are, by far, the most wonderful thing I could ever hope to have push into my life."

Mary opened her eyes and laughed, tears coming to her as she looked into his loving gaze.

"And I would have told you how very proud I am of you, for your strength and your courage and your beautiful heart, and for being you, the _real _you, Mary. And I would have told you not to mourn for me, not to lose yourself in despair, because I would never want to cause you pain. And I would have told you to be happy, because happiness is all I ever wished for you, even if that meant for you to be happy with someone…"

"Stop," Mary said firmly.

"Mary…"

"No," Mary said, "I won't hear it, Matthew, and you shall not speak of it. I forbid it."

"Mary…"

"You're here. You're here with me. Talk to me all you want about how you love me, and how you trust me, and how you believe in me, for that is what I wish to hear. That is what I need to hear. Do not talk to me about…_that_. I have no need for it, not from you."

They looked each other in the eyes and Matthew saw once again the fierce strength in his wife, the determination and resilience that was so commonplace before and had been absent for months. He smiled and nodded in acknowledgment.

"As you wish, my darling."

Mary's eyes fluttered closed and she relaxed as his touch ran from her cheek, across her neck and over her shoulders. She smiled and turned her head into the soft pillow.

"Goodnight, darling," she said sleepily.

"Goodnight, Mary," he answered, watching her as she fell asleep.


	4. The New Suitor

**Previously:**

"You're here. You're here with me. Talk to me all you want about how you love me, and how you trust me, and how you believe in me, for that is what I wish to hear. That is what I need to hear. Do not talk to me about…_that_. I have no need for it, not from you."

They looked each other in the eyes and Matthew saw once again the fierce strength in his wife, the determination and resilience that was so commonplace before and had been absent for months. He smiled and nodded in acknowledgment.

"As you wish, my darling."

Mary's eyes fluttered closed and she relaxed as his touch ran from her cheek, across her neck and over her shoulders. She smiled and turned her head into the soft pillow.

"Goodnight, darling," she said sleepily.

"Goodnight, Mary," he answered, watching her as she fell asleep.

**The New Suitor:**

**Downton Abbey, England, April 1922**

Matthew leaned over and ran his fingers along his sleeping wife's cheek. He pressed a soft kiss to her lips. He maintained the contact for several moments, savouring her presence, her scent – vanilla and rosewater – still lingering from last night's perfume, the softness of her alabaster skin and the warmth of her mouth.

"Mmm," Mary stirred, turning towards him and blinking several times, her eyelids opening halfway as he smiled at her in the dark.

"What time is it?" she asked sleepily.

"It's too early for you to be awake," Matthew said tenderly.

"Then why did you wake me?" she asked, smiling back at him. "With your lips, no less?"

"I'm sorry darling," Matthew whispered. "When I watch you sleep, I have to hold back from touching you, and sometimes it just becomes far too difficult, I'm afraid."

"Well aren't you the charmer so early in the morning?" Mary laughed, turning her body towards him and making herself more comfortable underneath the blankets.

Matthew wrapped his arms around her, nestling her into the crook of his shoulder.

Mary sighed happily as warmth surrounded her. "I should ring for Anna," she said drowsily. "Otherwise I'll spend the whole day in your arms and I won't accomplish anything."

"What a lovely thought," Matthew smiled, kissing the top of her head. "I'll wake you in an hour. You need your rest. What did you tell me last night? There's a grand party this evening?"

"Mmmhmm," Mary nodded, her eyes closed. "The party begins tomorrow and the concert is in two days, but most of the guests will be arriving today and there will be a dinner this evening. Mama has invited Dame Nellie Melba to come sing. It's quite a coup actually. She's a very eminent Opera singer, you know," Mary mumbled.

"Of course. Who hasn't heard of Dame Nellie Melba?" Matthew replied. "I have all of her albums, in fact."

"Oh, shut up," Mary laughed, shaking her head and falling back asleep.

* * *

"Is everything all right downstairs?" Mary asked as Anna finished with her hair.

"Yes, Milady. Mr. Carson is…well, he's in a mood, as you would expect with so many guests arriving," Anna smiled at her.

Matthew chuckled.

"Well it will do us all some good to have visitors," Mary said, smirking at her husband through the mirror of the vanity. "It's been a while since we've had a party."

"Yes, Milady," Anna agreed.

"Don't mind Carson," Mary smiled. "He'd make a calamity out of a loose thread on a napkin. I'm sure you all can manage."

"Yes, Milady," Anna nodded. "I think some of the guests are short valets and maids, but we'll make do."

"Thank you, Anna," Mary said, rising from her chair. "Don't let me keep you from your esteemed guests. I'll ring for you before dinner."

Anna smiled and bowed, then left the room.

"Shall we?" Mary looked over at Matthew brightly.

"After you, darling," Matthew replied. "You look gorgeous."

"Thank you. But you always say that."

"Because it's always true," Matthew replied, looking at her mischievously.

Mary looked from his eyes to his teasing lips. She swallowed slightly, then composed herself and followed him out of the bedroom. She tried to calm the thoughts in her mind that had been reappearing far more often since his return.

"Will I know any of the guests, do you think?" Matthew asked as they walked down the hall and towards the stairs.

"Edith's invited Michael Gregson," Mary said drily. "You may recognize some faces from our wedding and from our time in London, but no one particularly of note. They're mainly Mama's friends and anyone she thinks would be impressed by her guest of honour."

"So the party will be full of Opera enthusiasts then," Matthew whispered as they descended the stairs. "A veritable gang of hooligans."

Mary laughed as they reached the Great Hall.

"Ah, Mary, I was just about to have Anna fetch you," Cora called. She stood at the entrance with Carson and Bates and two other gentlemen. Mary approached, with Matthew standing off to her side.

"You remember Lord Gillingham, don't you?"

"Please, Lady Grantham," Lord Gillingham smiled. "Anyone who has seen me scrape my knees as a child can call me Anthony."

He turned to Mary and bowed. "Lady Mary, it's been far too long."

"Anthony Foyle," Mary smiled politely. "Of course I remember you. How could I forget a superior young man who found three little girls extremely tiresome to deal with? Welcome to Downton. I wasn't aware that you were coming." Mary looked at her Mother pointedly.

"Lord Gillingham enjoys a grand party as much as anyone, I'm sure," Cora smiled. "I wrote to him and he was nice enough to come. Mary, why don't you show Lord Gillingham to the Bachelor's Wing? Carson can take his valet downstairs."

"Yes, Your Ladyship," Carson nodded. "This way, Mr. Green," Carson said to the man standing behind Lord Gillingham. Mr. Green nodded to Anthony, and followed Carson and Bates as they walked towards the stairs.

Matthew looked at Lord Gillingham's valet curiously. He looked up as Cora took her leave to entertain other guests, leaving Lord Gillingham and Mary effectively alone.

Anthony looked at Mary and smiled.

Mary looked over at Matthew. He shrugged his shoulders and motioned to the stairs.

"Right then," Mary said. "This way."

They walked towards the stairs in silence. Matthew trailed behind. Mary kept glancing back at him and he smiled at her, pointing forward with his raised hand.

"The place looks just as I remember it as a child," Anthony said, glancing up at the ceiling.

"Papa is very fastidious about maintaining Downton the way it was," Mary replied. "How is your family's home? It's been ages since I was there last."

"We never moved back after the War," Anthony answered. "It was a hospital, you know."

"And now?" Mary asked.

"It's a girls' school," Anthony smiled ruefully. "But we're quite comfortable in the Dower House. Did you ever see it?"

"Hmm," Mary paused. "I remember having tea there with your grandmother. She gave me ice cream and I got it all over my dress. Nanny was furious," Mary smiled at the memory as they went up the stairs.

Anthony nodded in understanding. "That sounds like Grandmama. She always said how children should be spoiled. She's gone now, so she'll never know if I took her advice."

"She could find out yet," Mary smiled, glancing back at Matthew.

"Pardon?" Anthony asked.

Mary recovered. "You have no children then?"

"No. No children. No wife. I've come close a couple of times. In fact, I'm close now."

"That's lovely," Mary nodded as they reached the top of the stairs.

"You have a son, I believe?"

"Yes, George," Mary smiled.

"I'm sorry about your husband," Anthony said. "I'd heard about him through the talk in London. The solicitor who became heir to the Earl of Grantham and joint-Master of the Estate. Captain Crawley, was it?"

"Yes," Mary replied. "Matthew."

"I was in the Navy, onboard the HMS Iron Duke. We only heard stories about what it was like for the boys in the trenches. Sounded like a very nasty business."

"I'm sure it was," Mary answered. "Well, you're down there." Mary motioned towards the Bachelor's Wing. Anthony bowed and left. Mary swallowed as she watched him leave, then turned and walked briskly back to her own bedroom.

Mary sat down at her vanity and breathed deeply. She felt angry. Angry and annoyed.

"Lord Gillingham seems like a nice fellow."

Mary turned her head. Matthew leaned against one of the bedposts, looking absentmindedly at the ceiling.

"I wouldn't know," Mary answered. "I haven't seen him since I was a child. His father passed away recently. It seems they lost their home after the War and now they live in the Dower House."

"I heard," Matthew nodded, his eyes returning to meet hers.

"You do know why Mama invited him here, don't you?" Mary asked, the annoyance rising in her voice. "It wasn't because 'he enjoys a grand party', I tell you," she shook her head.

"Well it's hardly surprising," Matthew said calmly. "I'm sure she thinks he can help lift your spirits."

"Lift my spirits," Mary huffed. "She could have at least given me some warning."

"Do you need to be warned that the sun comes up in the morning? It's in her nature, Mary. I'm sure she put the wheels in motion months ago and only whipped the horses when she saw you beginning to come out of mourning."

"Well I'm not comfortable with this," Mary said firmly. "I'm not nineteen anymore. I don't need to be paraded around like a prize horse for the highest bidder."

"No, you're not nineteen anymore," Matthew chuckled. "But you do enjoy a good party, so reconnecting with a childhood acquaintance while listening to an esteemed Opera singer is hardly something to be upset about."

"It's more than that, and you know it," Mary rolled her eyes at her husband. "And how can you be so nonchalant about it?"

"Would you rather I be jealous and raving mad?"

"A little bit of anger would be nice, yes. I'm feeling quite put out myself."

"Rest assured, knowing you will re-marry someday is causing me all manner of annoyance."

"So I'm to marry again now? I thought I was just supposed to exchange pleasantries and be a good hostess?"

"The timeline may be accelerated if your family has anything to do with it," Matthew said with more bitterness than he intended. He tried to shift to a lighter tone and barely managed. "If you told your Mama you were ready to marry again, she would be elated, I'm sure. Perhaps she'll ask Dame Nellie Melba to sing the processional?"

"Well I'm not ready," Mary said dismissively. "Nor do I need to be."

"Be that as it may," Matthew said carefully. "You have guests downstairs. Shouldn't you go attend to them?"

"They're Mama's guests," Mary said, rising and walking over to their bed. "I think I'll rest until dinner."

"Mary," Matthew rolled his eyes. "You can't hide up here all the time."

"Who's hiding?" Mary replied innocently. She reached over and picked up a book from her nightstand. "I showed Anthony to the Bachelor's wing, just as Mama requested. I'll go down when the gong sounds and play my role. Until then," she smirked, taking a seat on their bed. "I would quite enjoy hearing my husband read to me."

She opened the book and placed it on the bed beside her. Matthew smiled and walked over to his side of the bed.

"I hope it isn't Austen again," Matthew rolled his eyes as he sat down beside her and turned the page of the book.

"No. Oscar Wilde this time," Mary smirked, making herself comfortable against the pillows. "I believe we left off at Chapter 6?"

"Chapter 6 it is," Matthew nodded, turning to the appropriate page.

* * *

"That's excellent, Anna," Mary nodded as Anna finished with her hair. "I'll wear my other tiara tonight. The wide one."

"Yes, Milady," Anna nodded as she went to the dressing room to retrieve Mary's chosen jewellery.

"A tiara would seem out of place for someone dining with a new suitor," Matthew whispered teasingly in her ear.

"I'm wearing my tiara because I'm a married woman," Mary snapped back. "Anna, be sure to bring my betrothal ring and my wedding band as well," Mary called, looking pointedly at Matthew.

"Besides," she said quietly. "He's hardly a suitor in the true sense. He says he's close to being married."

"So Cousin Cora invited him here as an understudy then?" Matthew joked.

"Maybe," Mary answered, turning in her chair and smiling at him. "It's no concern of mine. I've already got the headliner all to myself."

Matthew grinned and exchanged a knowing look with his wife as Anna came back in with the jewellery.

The parlour was bustling with guests and conversation when Mary and Matthew came in. Mary deliberately walked over to Edith and Gregson, keeping away from Anthony, who was standing across the room.

"Mr. Gregson," Mary said politely. "Good to see you again."

"Lady Mary," Gregson nodded. "How…erm…how are you faring?"

Mary glanced at Matthew quizzically, then smiled bravely.

"Better, thank you."

Edith looked at Mary warily.

"I'm going to fetch some drinks for us," Gregson declared awkwardly.

"Lovely. Thank you." Edith smiled.

When he was out of earshot, Edith turned back to Mary.

"You've said your hellos, you can move on now. I'm sure Mama has a list of guests for you greet."

"That's precisely why I'm standing here with you," Mary said dismissively, looking around the room to ensure she was still well buffered from both her Mother and Anthony.

She turned back to Edith and rolled her eyes.

"Well I would think you would want all the support you can get," Mary said plainly. "Papa isn't Gregson's biggest admirer you know."

"He doesn't know him yet!" Edith retorted. "Once he has a chance to speak with him, he'll come around."

"If you think so," Mary shook her head. "We both know how open minded Papa can be when it comes to prospective suitors."

"He never seemed to object to any of yours," Edith said pointedly.

"He didn't care for most of them," Mary said, smirking slightly at her husband. "And that was years ago. He's far less likely to make an effort now. Look at what happened with Tom."

"Well I hope it doesn't become a saga," Edith sighed. "I…I would appreciate your support," she said quietly.

"Well you have it, for now," Mary replied. "Matthew liked him," Mary explained as they both watched Gregson making his way back towards them. "I'm not entirely convinced, but I've no reason to speak against him…yet."

Gregson rejoined them and they all raised their champagne flutes in a delicate truce.

"Who is that Tom's speaking to?" Matthew asked her.

"That's the Duchess of Yeovil, an acquaintance of Granny's," Mary replied, looking over in their direction.

"Yes, we know who she is, Mary," Edith stated.

"Perhaps you should go and save him," Matthew said, watching the look of terror across Tom's face. "He's clearly uncomfortable."

"Don't worry, she's released him, and much to his relief, I'm sure," Mary smiled as she watched the Duchess walk away from Tom, only for her to be replaced at his side by Granny.

"I wasn't worried at all," Edith frowned, looking at Gregson in confusion at Mary's comment.

Not surprisingly, Mary and Anthony were paired together for dinner. Mary anticipated her Mother's strategy in advance. She reminded herself this was no different than sitting next to Strallan, or any number of guests she was ordered to entertain over the years. She fell into her reserved demeanour easily, speaking calmly and listening passively to other conversations, giving Anthony her polite attention and nothing more.

She would maintain a stoic mask when speaking to Anthony, but her eyes danced when she looked over at Matthew. She would glance at him knowingly when she found some part of the dinner conversation funny or boring, confident that he knew exactly what she wanted to share with him.

"It seems a waste to come up here and not take a ride," Anthony said, causing Mary to look back at him.

"Well it's no trouble if you wanted to," she replied. "We have plenty of horses and Papa would be delighted to see you make use of them. Have you anything to ride in?"

"We packed it all just in case," Anthony nodded.

"Well that settles it," Cora interjected with a smile. "I'll send a message to the stables tonight, Lord Gillingham. Mary, why don't you ride out with him and show him the grounds?"

Mary swallowed in surprise.

"Will you come out with me?" Anthony asked, smiling at her.

"Well I…" Mary hesitated.

"She would be delighted, Lord Gillingham," Cora said, looking pointedly at Mary. "Mary hasn't been in the saddle for ages."

"Would anyone else like to go riding tomorrow morning?" Mary asked, looking around the table nervously.

"I'm afraid you're stuck with me," Anthony said with satisfaction when no one else would commit to the excursion.

Mary forced a polite smile for him, then became very interested in the potatoes on her plate.

She sat with her Granny when the ladies went through, which effectively kept her involved in conversations that Anthony could not take part in. Mary had to suppress her annoyance as her Mother reminded her three times that she was going riding the next morning and to 'take care' of Lord Gillingham. Not having a moment to herself also meant she could not speak to Matthew without being observed. He stood by her side, but they could not share anything more than an odd glance here and there.

When Mary finally retired and Anna finished with her, she lay down on the bed and sighed.

"You must be quite upset with me," she said softly.

"Why?" Matthew replied. "I thought dinner was quite entertaining."

"I tried to say no," Mary pleaded, turning her body and looking at him. "It was Mama, she's so…eager…she had me committed before I could think of an excuse."

"Mary, regardless of your Mother's intentions, she's right. You haven't ridden in quite a while. With the pregnancy and the colder weather it's been over a year. You should have a proper gallop tomorrow."

"I do miss Diamond," Mary admitted. "But I can ride whenever I wish, I don't need to ride with Anthony."

"Well it's too late for that now," Matthew said simply. "Anything short of a serious illness won't spare you. Even then, Cousin Cora would probably strap you into the saddle and still make you ride with Lord Gillingham."

"Will you come?" Mary asked.

"I'll be there," Matthew nodded. "But I doubt you'll need me. You have nothing to fear from Lord Gillingham."

"I'm not afraid of him," Mary scoffed. "But I don't see the point of spending time with him."

"Consider it a reintroduction to Society," Matthew said reassuringly. "You can rehearse your guarded smiles and neutral comments. You probably won't even see him after this weekend."

"No, he'll be replaced by Mama's next candidate soon enough," Mary rolled her eyes.

"Get some sleep," Matthew smiled, moving closer to her. "You wouldn't want to look bleary eyed for Lord Gillingham."

Mary rolled her eyes and pulled the blanket across her shoulder. "I wonder if I'll dream tonight," she said, raising her eyebrow to him.

"What would you like to dream about?" he asked.

"You, of course."

"That could sound rather scandalous under the right circumstances."

"I guess I'll just have to see," Mary smiled.

"Yes," he agreed. "Go to sleep and we'll see what kind of dreams may come."

* * *

"You're rather quiet."

Mary turned to Anthony. "I've just been enjoying the view. It's been a while since I last rode." Mary looked around for Matthew but did not see him. She wasn't sure where she should be looking. He wouldn't be riding a horse she supposed, but he must be about somewhere. He had escorted her to the stables to meet Anthony, then had disappeared once she was aboard Diamond.

"It's been a while for me as well," Anthony replied. "Mabel doesn't like to ride, and neither does Mr. Fox."

"Fox? Mabel? Mabel Lane Fox?" Mary asked.

"Yes, she's my fiancée. You've heard of her?"

"Of course. So you've caught the greatest heiress of the season," Mary smirked.

"That's what everyone thinks, and some even say it aloud. She's very nice. Of course everyone wants it, on both sides, but we do get on."

"You may be surprised to hear that a match wanted by everyone can turn out to be extremely happy," Mary said, again glancing around for her husband.

"Do you speak from experience?" Anthony asked.

"Certainly. Matthew and I were flung at each other from the moment he arrived."

"But you didn't marry until after the War?"

"Not through any fault of his," Mary said wistfully. "I was rather stubborn in the beginning, and he was stubborn in the middle. Thankfully, he was more persistent in the end."

"And you were happy?" Anthony asked.

"Wonderfully happy," Mary grinned.

"Forgive me for asking, Mary, but do you think he changed you?"

"In many ways. Why do you ask?"

"In the last years of my father's life we became very close. There were…issues…between us that were finally resolved. I found that I missed him terribly after he died, and I sometimes think that if I were as tough as I was before, I'd be happier now."

"Maybe," Mary considered. "But then you wouldn't have the memories of your reconciliation. Matthew changed me. I loved him. I became much softer. If I was still the arrogant stubborn princess that I was when I first met him, it would be easier to deal with his loss now."

She looked down the trail and smiled.

"But then I wouldn't have known as great a love as ours, and my life would not be nearly as enriched as it is now for loving him," she said confidently.

Mary breathed the air and patted Diamond's neck.

"Shall we pick up the pace a bit, Anthony?" Mary called. She urged Diamond forward, not waiting for his answer.

Anthony took off after her, eventually catching up as they crested a hill. Downton Abbey stood off on the horizon, majestic against the blue sky.

"It's wonderful to see an Estate that's still in one piece," Anthony noted, staring out over the lush lands.

"Yes, and I have every intention of keeping it that way," Mary declared, looking over the land.

"What do you mean?"

"Well we have a big tax bill to pay. Papa wants to sell some of the land to pay for it, but I won't allow it," Mary explained.

"What do you intend to do?"

"I'm going to go to London and speak with the tax authorities, see if we can't agree to a settlement. Then I'll bring the agreement to Papa and make him see reason."

Anthony smiled. "That's quite brilliant. We had a similar choice when Father died. In the end, we lost the house but kept the land."

"Hopefully we won't have to make that choice," Mary said firmly.

"How did you come up with that strategy? It's not generally known that one can negotiate with the tax authorities."

"My husband taught me," Mary answered plainly. "He had grand plans for the Estate, and now it's up to the rest of us to make it happen."

"So where to next? There must be some childhood haunt of yours you can show me?" Anthony said brightly.

"If you don't mind, Anthony, I should head back," Mary answered politely. "Perhaps I'll see you later this evening."

Anthony nodded to her and watched as she took Diamond into a gallop back to Downton Abbey.

* * *

Mary closed her eyes and sighed as the warm water soothed her skin. She had not pushed Diamond very hard at all, but months out of the saddle had left her muscles sore from the brief ride with Anthony. She was elated when she came back and Anna had already run a bath for her. The water was cooling now, but she was determined to stay in for a bit longer.

"How was your ride?"

"Quite nice," Mary answered, keeping her eyes closed. "Diamond missed me as much as I missed him."

"And did Lord Gillingham enjoy himself?"

"I expect he did," she said easily. "He was impressed by my plan to negotiate with the tax authorities. Apparently he's been through the same thing, so it's good to know we're not alone in this."

"That's promising," Matthew agreed.

"Where were you?" she asked, her eyes still closed and her voice calm.

"I was watching," Matthew smiled. "I didn't want to distract you."

"So even if I don't see you, you may still be with me?"

"Not exactly," Matthew said. "You could have seen me, but you weren't looking closely enough."

"Hmm," Mary acknowledged.

"Well, I'll wait for you in the bedroom. Is Anna bringing you a tray for luncheon?"

"Later," Mary answered. "I told her I would ring when I was done my bath."

"I'll leave you to it then, darling."

"Oh, Matthew, before you go," Mary called, opening her eyes and finding him standing by the door.

"Yes?"

"Could you hand me a towel please?"

She rose up gracefully out of the tub, water sliding down her naked skin. She shivered slightly as the cool air contrasted to the warmth of the water. Turning to face him, she looked at Matthew with dark eyes, smirking triumphantly as he swallowed and his eyes widened.

"Matthew?" Mary smiled after several moments. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," Matthew gulped. He lifted a towel from the rack and handed it to her, his eyes raking across her body shamelessly.

Mary blushed and she bit her bottom lip as a thrilling shock went through her at his lustful stare. She felt strangely nervous, as if it was the first time she revealed her body to him, and yet she also felt calm and confident, as though she knew the reaction her boldness would bring out of him, and she relished it.

"I'll be through in a minute, Matthew," she said, turning away from him and deliberately drying her front, leaving her backside bare to his eyes.

"All right, darling," Matthew mumbled, willing himself to leave the bathroom, his eyes still fixed on his wife's body.

Mary smiled to herself as she stepped out of the tub.

**Law Office of Alexander Lewis, April 1922**

"You know, I quite like her."

Alex rolled his eyes. "You like her because she's feisty…like you."

"Probably," Michelle replied easily. "But I like her spirit. She'll need that fire for all that she'll have to go through."

"That's true," Alex agreed, his voice quiet.

"Cheer up, darling," Michelle said, taking his hand. "You put them back together. We just have to see how it turns out now."

Alex brought her hand to his lips and kissed her fingers idly.

**Downton Abbey, England, April 1922**

"I don't quite understand what the fuss is all about. All these people here just to see an Opera singer from Australia?" Violet huffed.

"Well she is very popular, you know," Mary smiled patiently.

"Then perhaps we should have charged for admission," Violet retorted.

"Granny, I don't think that…"

Mary gasped as she felt a warm touch along her back, moving in circles through the thin fabric or her gown.

She looked to her right and frowned at the smiling face of her husband.

"Mary?" Violet asked.

Mary spun back to her Granny and smiled. "I meant to say that I don't think charging for admission was Mama's intention in inviting Dame Nellie Melba here."

"Oh, of course not, but if we are to host this rabble, we may as well take some benefit from it."

Mary swallowed as Matthew ran his hands down her sides and brought his arms around her waist.

"Stop it!" she hissed.

"What?" Violet turned to her granddaughter.

"Stop being so practical, Granny," Mary said quickly. "Just enjoy the concert."

"It can't be improper to touch you like this if no one can see what I'm doing, darling," Matthew drawled into her ear.

Mary breathed to calm herself. She felt the warmth of his body against her back and his arms strong around her waist. His lips brushed against her neck and she could not help but tilt her head slightly to allow him further access. Every one of his touches were warm caresses against her body, and though she could not feel the weight of him, his presence was irresistible.

"Have I ever told you how much I like this perfume?" he asked, kissing her neck softly.

Mary fought to keep her eyes open as her pulse fluttered. Her mind raced trying to think of an excuse to allow her to go back up to their bedroom as quickly as possible. She was thankful that Granny had stopped talking and was looking elsewhere. Now if she could just feign a headache convincingly then she could take him back upstairs and…

"What about it?" a voice interrupted them.

Matthew pulled back.

Mary looked up at Anthony's smiling face.

Violet frowned.

"I thought I'd keep Granny company," Mary managed, trying to slow her pulse and her breathing.

"Don't use me as an excuse. If you don't want to dance, tell him," Violet admonished her.

Mary looked at Matthew imploringly. Her mind was blank and she could not conjure a valid excuse to refuse Anthony.

Matthew rolled his eyes. "It's all right, darling. It's just one dance. You'll be fine."

Mary smiled demurely at Anthony and rose from the sofa. The sooner she got through this dance, the sooner she could retire having done her duty by entertaining Anthony, she thought. She noticed Matthew was not following as they crossed to the dance floor.

Anthony turned and smiled at her and put his arms out. Mary nervously placed her hands in the appropriate position. As she looked at his smiling face, she shook.

"Thank you for this morning's ride," he said. "I enjoyed it."

"Glad to be of service," Mary replied, smiling politely.

They turned into the next step, and Mary's eyes glanced across the room. Her eyes widened and she gasped, coming to a sudden stop.

"Mary?"

Releasing her hold from Anthony, Mary turned.

"Rose, where did you get that?" she demanded.

"I got Alfred to bring it downstairs," Lady Rose answered, looking at Mary curiously.

Matthew came into the room and saw the gramophone. He instantly looked over at Mary, who was staring at the instrument in shock.

"Oh no," Matthew said, hurrying across the room towards her.

"I'm sorry, Anthony," Mary said quietly. "I can't dance after all." She left the room quickly without another word.

Mary almost ran to her bedroom. She pulled the cord firmly and sat down at her vanity, her breathing coming in gasps and tears welling in her eyes.

Anna was quiet as she came into the bedroom and they went about preparing Mary for bed in silence. When Mary's hair was braided and she was changed into her nightgown, Anna ventured to speak.

"Milady, I'm so sorry. Lady Rose asked me about Mr. Matthew's gramophone for her records and I told her she should ask you about it before having it brought down."

"Well, she didn't," Mary sighed, fiddling with her braid.

"She shouldn't have had it brought down and set off your memories," Anna said carefully, looking at her Mistress through the mirror of the vanity.

"No, it's not that," Mary said, one hand reaching for the toy dog sitting on her vanity.

"At first I mourned for Matthew," Mary said, looking at the toy dog intently. "Then a few months ago I realized that I was mourning more for the person I was when I was with him."

"You're a fine person, Milady," Anna said quietly.

"Thank you, Anna," Mary said automatically, before looking at her through the mirror's reflection.

"I've felt much better lately," Mary continued. "But tonight I felt very sad, and not because of the memories. Matthew's gramophone is a reminder of him, just like this toy dog, and while I am grateful to still have parts of him with me, tonight reminded me that I do not have him, not all of him, and even though I've known that for a while now, being reminded of that fact is very sad."

"It's all right, Milady. You're still strong. You'll get through this, I know it."

"People probably think I made an idiot of myself in front of Lord Gillingham, but you know, Anna, I can't care about that. Some things are more important than appearances."

"Yes, Milady."

"Thank you, Anna. Good night."

"Good night, Milady."

Mary turned out the lights and curled under the blankets. Her eyes blinking at the darkness of the bedroom.

"Mary, I'm so sorry," he said, moving closer to her.

"Matthew," she whispered, her eyes shut tight. "I…I'll have to face everyone tomorrow. For tonight, could you please just…"

Warmth enveloped her, touching her shoulders, running soothingly down her back and pulling her into the softness of the mattress and blankets. Mary let out a quiet sob as he pulled her closer to him.

"It's all right, darling," Matthew said. "I'm right here. I'm right here."

**Crawley House, Downton Village, England, April 1922**

"I suppose you're wondering what brings me by," Violet asked, taking a sip of tea.

"No, I suspect I know exactly why you're here," Isobel replied, stirring her tea slowly. "I was wondering how long it would take for you to get to it, though."

"You know that you have my sympathy, truly. As hard as it may be to believe, I miss him as well," Violet said quietly.

"I believe you," Isobel nodded. "He had a way with people, you know?" she smiled. "He got that from his father. He was always more willing than I was to accept other people's eccentricities and not allow anything to cloud his relationship with them."

"An admirable skill," Violet smiled.

Matthew looked from the Dowager Countess to his Mother hopefully.

"Will you come up tonight and hear Melba?" Violet asked after a pause. "I know you'll think me unkind, but it won't bring him back for you to sit alone night after night."

"I know that, and I don't think you unkind for saying it," Isobel replied. "But you see, I have this feeling that when I laugh or read a book or hum a tune, it means I've forgotten him. Even though it's just for a moment, it's that feeling of betrayal that I can't bear."

Matthew shook his head and crouched down next to his Mother. He tried to touch her, tried to reach her. She continued looking at Violet.

"I think Mary felt the same way, and probably feels the same way from time to time still," Violet said. "But she knows it's important to try and live on, and coming to Downton tonight to hear this Australian Opera singer is, strangely, a chance for you to do that."

"Mary told me I should come around more often," Isobel smiled. "But it's different for her and you know it. She has George, she has Downton, her life needs to go on out of necessity. Sadly, I don't have the same motivation."

"Perhaps you do," Violet answered. "You see, it was Mary who told me to come down here and convince you to come. She was afraid that if she asked you herself, you would find her callous for thinking of a concert rather than of your son, her husband."

"And she assumed that if I found you callous it wouldn't harm our relationship at all," Isobel smiled.

"Our Mary is growing up before our eyes," Violet chuckled.

"She shouldn't think that," Isobel said sadly. "I can't begrudge her moving on. I want her to, of course."

"Then show her that you're prepared to do the same, because she told me she won't move on without you," Violet said with a raised eyebrow.

Matthew smiled and left the house.

**Downton Abbey, England, April 1922**

"Cousin Isobel, I'm so glad that you could join us," Mary smiled, taking her Mother-in-law's hands in her own.

"I wouldn't miss such an esteemed Opera singer," Isobel said kindly.

Matthew laughed. "Mother hates the Opera," he told Mary.

"I don't know how interesting it will be," Mary smiled. "But I think we should take these moments for what they are. At worst, a distraction. At best, a happy memory. I find that focusing more and more on the happy memories helps me get through each day."

Isobel nodded. "I am glad," she said genuinely. "And I will work on that."

"We can work on it together," Mary said confidently. "Even though we've hired a new nanny, I think I want to spend more time with George, and I would very much appreciate you helping me to not make a fool of myself."

"I'd be delighted," Isobel smiled as the gong sounded to go through for dinner.

Mary did not hesitate when Cora again paired her with Anthony for dinner. She felt slightly embarrassed about leaving him and the proper thing to do was to apologize, irrespective of the circumstances.

"I'm sorry about yesterday," Mary said as the first course was served. "It had nothing to do with you, you should know."

"The thought never crossed my mind," Anthony replied easily. "I'm glad to see you came down tonight. Will you be coming to London soon?"

"Yes," Mary nodded. "I'm going to ring tomorrow and make an appointment with the authorities."

"Would you like me to come with you? I wouldn't want you to face them alone," Anthony said.

"Oh I won't be alone," Mary replied. "I'll be with my…Tom can come with me," she finished.

"Right," Anthony hesitated. "Well you don't need my help then, but it's yours for the asking."

"Thank you," Mary said politely, looking away and reaching for her wine glass.

"Your father seems to be having an engrossing discussion with Dame Nellie Melba," Matthew said with a hint of surprise.

Mary looked over and had to smirk at her Papa speaking animatedly to the Opera singer.

"They apparently share a love for wine," Matthew chuckled. "It's amazing that alcohol can overcome so many of the world's barriers. England and Australia united in friendship and a common love of Claret and Haut-Brion."

"May I take you out to dinner when you're in London?" Anthony asked suddenly.

Mary laughed at her husband's joke, then swallowed quickly as she realized Anthony's question.

"I don't think that Miss Lane Fox would approve," she said quietly.

"And I definitely do not," Matthew whispered to her. "It's one thing for a suitor to pay call to you, but an engaged man should know to keep his distance. Unless he wants to spend dinner with the soup tureen over his head."

Mary laughed again despite herself.

"I am flattered that you would ask though," Mary recovered, looking away from Anthony and over at Matthew's smiling face. She brought her napkin up to her mouth to cover her giggles. Their eyes met and they were in the past, laughing together like teenagers over Strallan's salty dessert, their lives still ahead of them.

"Is something the matter?" Tom asked Isobel, who was looking blankly across the table.

"No," Isobel shook her head. "I haven't heard Mary laugh since…you know."

"I've seen her laugh," Tom said. "I don't know about what, but when we're driving around or I see her in the nursery or even just doing the rounds of the farms, she'll smile and laugh and make comments to herself. I don't know what she's on about, but it can't hurt."

"I'm glad to hear that," Isobel nodded. "And I think I'm getting closer to joining in the merry-making."

"That's good," Tom replied. "I could use another ally against this lot."

"And you shall have one," Isobel looked at Tom and almost chuckled, and the realization warmed her.

* * *

"And I'd like to dedicate this to love and to lovers," Dame Nellie Melba announced before beginning her next song.

"Where did Lord Gillingham go off to?" Matthew asked.

"He said he was going to go play poker," Mary replied, turning to look at him. "Does it matter?"

"No," Matthew said, looking at her with a confident stare. "Although it seems Gregson and some others have left as well. Perhaps I should go have a look."

"Don't you dare," Mary hissed, looking back at Dame Nellie Melba as she sang in Italian. "I've barely had any time with you this evening. You aren't leaving me here to listen to this on my own."

"I thought you liked Opera?" Matthew teased.

"I do, and she is quite brilliant," Mary whispered. She turned to Matthew. "But I am retiring as soon as this song is over, and my husband will come with me."

Mary raised her eyebrow at him before looking back to the concert.

Matthew looked straight ahead as the song reached a crescendo. He reached across and covered Mary's hand with his. She flexed her fingers in acknowledgment.

They both smiled.


	5. London by Day

**Previously:**

"Don't you dare," Mary hissed, looking back at Dame Nellie Melba as she sang in Italian. "I've barely had any time with you this evening. You aren't leaving me here to listen to this on my own."

"I thought you liked Opera?" Matthew teased.

"I do, and she is quite brilliant," Mary whispered. She turned to Matthew. "But I am retiring as soon as this song is over, and my husband will come with me."

Mary raised her eyebrow at him before looking back to the concert.

Matthew looked straight ahead as the song reached a crescendo. He reached across and covered Mary's hand with his. She flexed her fingers in acknowledgment.

They both smiled.

**London by Day:**

**Downton Abbey, England, April 1922**

Mary came outside, the sun greeting her with a warm whisper across her face. She smiled. The sun was not as reliable in Spring as it was in Summer, but she was glad for it just the same. It was strange how she could tell the difference between varying types of warmth. She could close her eyes and still distinguish between the natural heat of the morning Sun across Yorkshire and the sterile glare of a lamp or stove. Most recently, she found she craved a more natural soothing touch, and as she took her place next to her parents to see their guests off, she glanced about, waiting patiently for her husband's appearance.

Matthew smiled as Nanny finished George's feeding. He made comical faces as his son fussed before settling in on Nanny's shoulder, his eyes drooping slightly.

"You're rather hungry in the morning, Master George!" Nanny laughed, rocking back and forth and patting George's back as she walked around the nursery.

"Have a wonderful day, my precious boy," Matthew smiled. "I'm going to bring your Mama up to see you around luncheon. That will be fun, won't it?"

Matthew left the nursery feeling content. Mary was slowly spending more time with the baby, although she insisted that he accompany her each time. Matthew was happy to be there, but he tried to encourage her to go it alone as well, as it was important for the two of them to bond. Mary agreed, but was not yet ready to handle George on her own. The memory of how she had barely seen him during his first few months was still weighing on her, despite Matthew's constant assurances that it was all right.

Matthew stopped and smiled as Anna came towards him. It was time to change the linens, Matthew recalled. He smiled as he remembered several mornings when he and Mary had not been particularly prompt in leaving their bed. It was a good thing that Anna was indeed made of 'stout stuff' as she claimed, and also that she always knocked and waited to be invited in before opening the door, Matthew thought.

He tried to shake a particularly graphic memory of a morning when Anna had almost caught him and Mary in a rather compromising position when he noticed Anna standing rigid outside their bedroom door. Matthew approached and frowned. There was something different about Anna this morning, something in her mood. He drew nearer and he realized she had a cut on her lip, the dried blood still slightly visible.

Anna reached out her hand to steady herself against the door frame. She leaned forward and shut her eyes tight, a strangled sob escaping her lips as she struggled to calm herself. As Matthew looked at her in shock, Anna straightened herself, opened the door to Mary's bedroom purposefully and went about her chores.

Matthew stood in the doorway, watching her efficiently and quickly change the linens. Her previous breakdown was seemingly forgotten, but Matthew recognized something in her posture and the way she moved. He did not like it.

"The tax people have had a cancellation," Mary informed her parents as the cars disappeared down the driveway. "They can see us on Wednesday at noon. We'll go up on the evening train. I don't want to risk being late."

"That's still two days away, Mary," Robert said as they turned to walk back into the house. "You're sure you don't want me to come?" he asked.

"It's not a hearing, Papa," Mary smiled patiently. "They don't care how they get the money, so long as they get it. I'll ask how long they can give us and what scale of payment they'll accept. Then I'll report back and we'll make a decision…together."

"I can see I'll spend the rest of my life dragging a debt and paying it in instalments," Robert shook his head.

As they entered the Great Hall, Mary smiled as she saw Matthew approach.

"Papa," she said calmly keeping her gaze on her husband. "Whether it's taxes or paying for a new roof for the post office or paying to fix the fences on a tenant's property, there's always going to be payments. If Downton is self-sufficient in the end, as Matthew envisioned, does it matter how we arrive there? I want my son to ride the same fields that I did as a child, rather than have to point to someone else's land and tell him stories of the way things used to be."

"Excuse me," Rose interrupted. "I couldn't help but overhear that you're going to London this evening? Can I come?"

Mary looked at her young cousin before looking back at her parents.

"I don't see why not. Mama?"

"Of course," Cora nodded as Rose's face lit up. "You'll be staying with your Aunt Rosamund."

"Do you mind keeping an eye on the children, Mama?" Mary asked.

"Not at all," Cora smiled. "And Nanny and Isobel will be here as reinforcements if needed."

"I'm glad to hear it," Mary smiled, glancing at Matthew beside her. "I hope we see more of Cousin Isobel. I'm going to visit her more often once I return from London."

"Well there's signs she may be coming around," Robert remarked. "Clarkson convinced her to at least consider helping him with his out patient clinic."

"One step at a time," Mary nodded. "I'm going to take a walk. I'll see you all at luncheon."

"Mary," Cora called and Mary and Matthew stopped at the door.

"Will you meet Lord Gillingham while you're in London?" Cora asked quietly.

"No," Mary answered quickly. "Why should I?"

"Just thought you might," Cora said innocently.

Mary looked at Matthew and took a breath.

"Don't be transparent, Mama. It doesn't suit you," she said firmly.

"Mary," Cora pleaded. "I just think that…"

"No. I'm not seeing him."

Mary left her standing at the entrance and walked briskly outside with her husband.

**Painswick House, Eaton Square, London, England, April 1922**

"What did Anna say?" Matthew asked.

"Not much of anything," Mary replied, rubbing cream into her hands. "A cut lip is hardly anything to be concerned over, darling. I'm sure there's all manner of accidents downstairs that we're none the wiser to."

"A cut lip may mean nothing," Matthew agreed. "As long as it's only a cut lip and not a sign of something else."

"You don't think there's anything going on between her and Bates, surely?" Mary asked.

"No, I would be shocked," Matthew answered. "But there was quite a lot of commotion during the party with so many guests and staff in the house. Maybe Anna's been frazzled by dealing with all of it."

"Maybe," Mary considered. "Well, she says nothing's amiss so perhaps this time away will do her good, then when she gets back to her normal routine she'll be back to herself again."

"I would hope she would confide in you if anything was wrong," Matthew frowned.

"I would hope so," Mary nodded. "Well investigate all you wish, darling," she said airily as she came to bed and made herself comfortable under the quilts. "I'm sure you can get to the bottom of it."

"I'm not here to watch over Anna, or anyone else," Matthew smiled at her. "But that doesn't mean I can't bring peculiar things to your attention."

"One more matter on my plate," Mary sighed, turning on her side and facing him. "I recall why I detested you having a job now. Work feels too much like school, and there's no afternoon treats or feigning illness to avoid a lesson."

Matthew chuckled, reaching out and stroking her cheek. Mary closed her eyes and smiled, tilting her head to feel his warmth along her neck.

"Perhaps you deserve a day off tomorrow," Matthew smiled.

Mary's eyes opened. "That would be rather generous of you, headmaster," she teased. "Whatever will I do with so much free time?"

"Well the meeting isn't until the day after tomorrow," Matthew noted. "Don't think I didn't suspect your motive for coming to London early."

"I'd rather deal with Aunt Rosamund's gossip and meddling than Papa," Mary rolled her eyes. "And I thought I'd take the extra time to go out in the City with my husband."

"Shopping for clothes and taking tea? Sounds delightful," Matthew smirked sarcastically.

"Don't worry, darling," Mary sighed as she closed her eyes and moved towards him. "I'll make it fun for both of us."

"I'm sure it will be, Mary," Matthew smiled, kissing her forehead and bringing his arm across her body.

**The National Gallery, Trafalgar Square, London, England, April 1922**

"What do you think?" Mary asked, tilting her head slightly.

"They're…sunflowers," Matthew stated.

Mary rolled her eyes at him. "Well obviously they are, but what do you think of the painting?"

"It's good," Matthew replied. "But I think I prefer _Starry Night_ or _Irises_, if we're speaking of Van Gogh specifically."

"Well unless you're taking me to Paris, you'll have to be content with _Sunflowers_," Mary smiled.

"Convince the tax authorities to be kind and perhaps I'll consider that a reward," Matthew teased.

Mary laughed, then had to quiet herself as a group of schoolchildren were led through to see the latest acquisition. Mary stepped away to avoid the crowd.

"You enjoy sneaking around, don't you?" Matthew smiled.

"If you're asking if I care if anyone sees me talking to myself in the National Gallery, then the answer is no," Mary whispered back. "There's always gossip of some kind about me in London, so what's another story?"

"Well I would expect you wouldn't want Lord Gillingham to hear about your eccentricities," Matthew looked at her knowingly.

"Stop it," Mary admonished him. "You heard me tell Mama before we left. I have no intention of seeing Tony while we're in London, nor afterward to be honest."

"Tony is it now?" Matthew teased. "I thought he was Lord Gillingham or Anthony Foyle."

"We called him Tony when we were children," Mary rolled her eyes.

"Really? And what was his pet name for you?"

"There was none," Mary retorted. "I'll have you know that I didn't permit nicknames, unlike you, _Crawlers_."

Matthew's eyes went wide. "Don't you dare…"

"Crawlers," Mary said teasingly, biting her tongue and smiling. "If I'd have known you had such a delightful name, I wouldn't have been nearly as argumentative with you when you first arrived."

"No," Matthew laughed ruefully. "I'm sure you would have spared me all manner of teasing if you had known back then. I knew I would rue the day Mother told you that story."

"Oh, poor Crawlers," Mary continued, raising her eyebrows to him, her eyes bright with mischief. "I'll buy you an ice cream when we get outside and it will make everything feel better, all right?"

Matthew shook his head and smiled in defeat. "Today is going to be a very long day."

"Come along, Crawlers," Mary said authoritatively, walking to another room.

They wandered through the galleries, stopping by some of their favourite paintings and whispering to each other. They were at the National Gallery the previous summer during London Season. Mary found that looking at art helped calm her nerves during the pregnancy, and Matthew was all too happy to walk with her, pointing out different works that he knew of, and discovering new ones with his wife. It was their little ritual, one of many they had established over the summer. They would take tea at The Savoy, then walk to the National Gallery for the afternoon.

"Well, let's get on with it, then," Mary smiled as they approached the Impressionist wing. Matthew always dragged her here. Mary preferred the Renaissance.

"I'll turn you into an admirer of Monet yet," Matthew promised.

Mary smiled at him.

"Actually, I came here back in December," she said quietly.

"You did?"

Mary nodded, looking at the floor. "It was during Winter Season, and I wasn't attending any of the events or parties, but I didn't want to be at Downton while everyone else was here, so I came to Grantham House but stayed on my own mostly," she recalled.

Matthew smiled and stroked her arm.

"I came into this room and looked around, thinking about all the times you told me about Monet and Renoir and Cezanne and I would sit here staring at their paintings for an afternoon."

"That was very kind of you, to think of me that way," Matthew whispered.

Mary nodded and sniffled quietly. "I would look at these paintings and think of what I would give to just argue with you one more time over who was better – Monet or Holbein."

"Mary," Matthew sighed.

She turned and looked at him with a wan smile.

"And here we are today," he smiled, leaning in and kissing her cheek.

Mary nodded contentedly.

"Let's go and find a Holbein," Matthew smirked and guided her on to the Renaissance gallery.

"I don't remember this one," Matthew frowned, looking at the card next to the portrait of Christina of Denmark.

"It's from the Simpson collection," Mary said sadly. "They must have just put it up."

"Baron Simpson?" Matthew asked.

Mary nodded. "They lost everything. The land, the houses, and all of their art apparently. Simpson House was across St. James from Papa's home. I went there every Summer for their garden party." She shook her head.

"What became of them?"

"They still have some land outside Southampton, but nothing like what they used to. We haven't seen them in years."

They stood in silence, staring at the painting acquired by the National Gallery from the fallen Estate of a once proud aristocratic family just like theirs.

"It's funny, you know," Mary said quietly. "Sir Richard used to brag about it during the War. Many families would fall, he predicted. And he and I would have our pick of what was left. That's how he bought Haxby for a song. Now look at us. We're almost like all of them," she motioned towards the painting taken from the fallen Simpsons.

"We're not like them," Matthew said firmly, looking at her. "We won't end up like them."

"We would have already," Mary replied. "If not for you and your money, we would have lost most of it already anyway. And now…oh, Matthew, what if I can't…"

"You can," Matthew said, putting his arm around her shoulders. "It's intimidating, and frightening, and there are no guarantees that any of it will work in the end, but you can do this, Mary. And you won't have to do it alone."

Mary smiled and looked at him.

"Perhaps we should raise that argument with your Papa," Matthew said thoughtfully. "Rather than sell the lands to pay the Death duties, we can sell some of his art."

"Granny would be livid," Mary smiled. "Most of it gets scooped up by American collectors. If you told her that her prized Raphael would end up in New York, she would probably faint."

Well the walls wouldn't be bare," Matthew said. "We could buy a fair priced Monet and put that up in its place."

Mary laughed.

**The Savoy Hotel, Westminster, London, England, April 1922**

Mary remained silent as the tea was poured and the trays of scones and pastries were spread out on the table. She nodded to the waiter once everything was served and he left her. She sipped her tea slowly, watching the activity outside the window as boats glided down the Thames and people strolled through the Victoria Embankment Gardens below.

"Do you miss it?" she said quietly.

"Miss what?" he asked.

"Food. Tea. Scones and clotted cream. All of it."

Matthew chuckled.

"It's hard to describe. I don't miss it, that is, I don't actively think of it because I don't need to have it. At the same time, I do remember the taste and the flavour, but I don't feel empty without it. It's all a pleasant memory."

Mary smiled.

"I find that I miss far less than I thought I would now that I'm back here…with you."

He looked at her seriously and Mary smiled as she took another sip of tea. She felt a delightful flutter in her stomach under his gaze.

"Did you notice anything about Tom on the ride here yesterday?" Mary asked.

"Not particularly," Matthew replied. "I didn't see much of him at the party either. Why?"

"I can't say," Mary frowned. "But there's something. Something on his mind. I haven't had much time to talk to him either, besides a little bit about the meeting."

"It could be any number of things, darling. Being away from Sybbie, the meeting with the authorities, he's got a lot on his mind, you know."

"I know," Mary nodded. "I just suppose I've come to realize that he doesn't really have anyone to talk to. He obviously can't confide in Papa, and I couldn't tell you who he's actually close to anymore."

"That's true," Matthew said sadly, looking out the window himself. "But you know, darling, you can't take care of everyone."

"No, I know that. But, he's always been an outsider hasn't he? I wonder if after all this time he feels at home at all with us."

"In a way I'm sure he does. In many ways he probably still doesn't. He tries to keep busy, Tom, so that he doesn't have to think about…"

"All that he's lost," Mary said.

"Robert needs to understand why all of this effort is so important," Matthew said. "It's not just to keep the land for our sake, or even just for George. It's for everyone, so that everyone can have a purpose."

"He used to believe that," Mary said wistfully. "He used to see himself as a benevolent guardian for the family and the tenants and everyone who depended on him. I wonder what changed."

"Life changed, Mary. And the more it changes, the less he likes it, the less he wants to change with it."

Mary sipped her tea.

"Do you think they'll be harsh at the meeting?" she asked.

"It's your day off, remember? No talk about government meetings or Death duties for another eight hours."

"I just don't want to embarrass myself in there."

"They're the tax authorities. It's their job to embarrass you. They'll want to press their advantage to get the most money they can."

"And how am I to respond to that? By asking them to take pity on a grieving widow?"

"On a very attractive grieving widow," Matthew smiled.

"Oh, lovely," Mary huffed. "I'm glad I packed my red lipstick and my new corset."

"It won't be easy, darling," he said patiently. "But the key with these things is to find out what they want, and to give it to them on your terms, not theirs."

"Well what they want is obvious. They want to be paid their duties."

"Precisely. But what they most likely do not want is to be saddled with a bankrupt estate. It will mean selling assets and dealing with administration and being tied up in the Courts for far longer than they'd like."

"So if we find a way to pay them faster than they would be paid if they had to sell Downton themselves, and they recover more than they would after subtracting expenses in a bankruptcy…"

"And with a minimum of fuss and expense…" he added.

"Then they should be more than happy to give us more time, because in the end they get their money just the same," Mary's eyes danced.

"Exactly, my darling," Matthew smiled proudly.

"Some people laughed at me when I told them I was marrying a lawyer," Mary teased as she spread cream on a scone.

"And now?"

"Now I think they should wish they were so lucky," Mary beamed as she took a bite of her scone.

**Belgrave Square, Belgravia, London, England, April 1922**

"We haven't seen much of Edith," Matthew commented as they walked.

"She's always out with Gregson," Mary said dismissively. "They go to restaurants and whatever else it is that newspaper people do for entertainment."

Matthew laughed.

"Did his coming to the party help his cause with your parents at all?"

"I don't know. Papa seemed to warm to him near the end, but that's a far cry from embracing him as a future son."

"And Cora?"

"You know Mama," Mary smiled. "She'd be delighted if anyone would take Edith at this point. Although even she can't look the other way when Edith steps out with a married man."

"Crikey."

"Well, honestly Matthew. Edith's season was ages ago. She was left at the altar once already. She's dangerously close to being branded a spinster. But better that than being a man's mistress. And not even the mistress of a man with a title."

"So who is taking up her cause? She's been in London quite often as of late."

"She'd be better off with Gregson than under the wing of Aunt Rosamund," Mary said caustically. "And I doubt she's looking to meet anyone if she's constantly with him."

"Will it end well, do you think?"

"No," Mary shook her head. "I imagine it won't. There's no telling her otherwise though. I learned long ago that intervening on Edith's behalf is a futile exercise."

"Is it common? For an aristocrat to take a mistress?"

"More common than it is for married Lady to take a lover," Mary replied plainly. "You know how some of these marriages work. The man makes all of the decisions. The woman stands by his side, gives him heirs and looks pretty. They sleep apart at night and whatever they choose to do in their own time is permitted, so long as they're discrete."

"I never noticed. It wasn't discussed openly."

"Not among the men, and you didn't circulate among Society long enough to pick up on the gossip. It's been going on for centuries, Matthew. What was good for the Royals in the Middle Ages still holds true today to a degree."

"Is that right?"

"Viscount Kirkland, Lady Catherine, Lord Birk, Lady Samantha, to name a few. And those are just some of the ones I know personally."

"How do they reach such a point?" Matthew wondered aloud.

"Look around you, Matthew," Mary said sweeping her arm across the opulent homes. "When you become accustomed to a certain lifestyle, whether you love your husband or are compatible with him in the bedroom are not nearly as important as what he can provide for you, and you for him."

"And taking a mistress or a lover fills the more basic needs then?"

"Mmm," Mary nodded. "I imagine it's as if one was leading two separate lives. A public one where your role is as a dutiful husband or a doting wife, and a private one for…other pursuits."

"I shouldn't be surprised. There was all manner of…distraction…during the War."

"I expect there was," Mary replied. She paused, biting her lower lip nervously.

"I didn't, if that's what you're wondering," Matthew said. "There was certainly opportunity, I'm sorry to say. When we were granted weekend passes and found ourselves in Paris, well, some of the men had rather one-track minds."

"But not you," Mary said quietly.

"No. Lavinia didn't deserve that. Especially since…" he paused.

"Especially since…" Mary looked at him patiently.

Matthew turned to gaze at his wife. "Especially since I was already betraying her by being in love with you."

They smiled at each other, then continued walking in silent understanding.

"I never would have," Mary said softly. "I know you thought there was a time I'd gone off you, but you know that I didn't. And truthfully I don't think I ever would. When we were finally married after all that wasted time, I found to my surprise that…" Mary swallowed.

"That…" Matthew said encouragingly.

"You know that I don't like talking about this sort of thing," Mary shook her head.

"That's fine," Matthew smiled.

"I found that I desired you…rather strongly and rather…often," Mary said quickly, blushing furiously and looking away.

"And I considered myself very lucky indeed," Matthew replied.

They turned towards Eaton Square, both of them feeling strangely energized, almost giddy.

"Do you think we could live without all of this?" Mary asked, looking at the homes they passed. "Downton Abbey, Grantham House and Downton Place and the lands and the title and everything that comes with it. Do you think we need all of it to be who we are?"

"I think that you are so much more than the eldest daughter of the Earl of Grantham or the future Dowager Countess," Matthew said carefully. "It would be strange after all you've conquered and preserved through that you'd be undone by the loss of a few acres."

"But?" Mary asked.

"But I'd rather you have the choice and to live your life on your own terms, instead of having circumstance decide your lot."

Mary grinned at her husband.

"Let's get back to Painswick House," Matthew smiled. "It isn't proper for a Lady to be walking alone in the evening."

**Painswick House, Eaton Square, London, England, April 1922**

Rosamund replaced the telephone and smiled to herself thoughtfully. She went into the library and sat down at her writing desk, checking over some papers before taking up her pen and writing a note. When she finished, she read it over and smiled.

She pulled the cord and her butler appeared shortly after.

"Mead, this needs to be delivered tomorrow afternoon to the Empire Club," Rosamund directed, holding out an envelope to him. "Ensure that it's given prior to dinner."

"Yes, Your Ladyship," Mead bowed.

"And this," Rosamund smiled, holding up another envelope. "Deliver this one to the Dower House for the Gillinghams tomorrow after luncheon. When they ask, tell them that it's from Lady Mary Crawley, care of her Aunt, Lady Rosamund Painswick."

"Yes, Your Ladyship," Mead bowed, taking both envelopes.

"And tell the maids that I'll need the two gowns I was looking over today pressed for tomorrow night. I may be going out after dinner."

"Yes, Your Ladyship," Mead bowed and took his leave.

Rosamund looked out the window into Eaton Square and the streetlamps illuminating St. Peter's in the distance. She smiled.

* * *

Anna placed the brush on the vanity next to the neatly arranged set of combs. She was used to leaving Mary's hair down now, as she had been wearing it that way for months without a braid. In many ways, Anna thought her Mistress had recovered from her despondency during the mourning of Mr. Matthew. She seemed more alive each day. But she still fiercely insisted on wearing her rings and her tiara, and maintaining all the talismans of a married woman, both publically and privately.

"Milady, I wanted to tell you that when we return from London, I expect I'll be moving back into Downton Abbey at some point."

"What?" Mary exclaimed, frowning. "Why? Has Bates done something?"

Matthew frowned and sat up in bed.

"No! No, nothing!" Anna shook her head vigorously. "It's just that we've been in each other's pockets for a while now. We work together. We live together. We see each other at every moment. It gets to be a bit much, sometimes, and I'm afraid it may affect my work."

"But that's nonsense, Anna! I have no complaint about your work and I highly doubt anyone else does. Living separately from your husband is simply mad."

"I appreciate your concern, Milady, but I know it's the right thing to do for me. I'll abide by whatever you decide, but I already talked to Mrs. Hughes about it and she's going make the necessary arrangements, unless someone objects."

"Well I would hope that Bates would object vociferously," Mary said. "However, if you think this is best, then I'll accept it…for now. I do strongly believe you should work on whatever it is that is causing you to want to leave your home. That can't be the life you want, Anna."

"It is what I want, Milady. It's what best, for all of us. Thank you for understanding."

"Anna," Mary called as her lady's maid reached the door. "You do know that you can confide in me if anything at all is amiss. Heaven knows I've burdened you with far more than I should have. I would hope you would return the favour if necessary."

"Yes, Milady," Anna said quietly. "Thank you."

Mary lay down under the blankets, sighing and frowning as she fit herself against Matthew. She felt warmth along her back and across her chest and stomach as his arm reached around her. She brushed her hair back over her ear and shoulder and smiled as he kissed her neck.

"There's still something she's not telling you. And it sounds as though it's quite serious."

"I agree," Mary nodded. "I'll have to watch her more closely. Perhaps I'll talk to Mrs. Hughes. I don't want to go to Bates just yet. It would be too embarrassing for him, and may do more harm than good."

"Let's hope it's only a phase and that they can pull themselves out of it."

"Yes."

"I personally think it's ridiculous for a woman to live apart from her husband," Matthew said in a low voice, smirking at Mary.

Mary turned her head to look up at him, feeling him press against her back.

"Absolutely ridiculous," she whispered, smiling at him. "Why any woman would want to sleep without her husband next to her, let alone live apart, makes no sense."

Matthew kissed her, then embraced her and watched his wife fall asleep.


	6. Something She'll Never Regret

**Previously:**

"Let's hope it's only a phase and that they can pull themselves out of it."

"Yes."

"I personally think it's ridiculous for a woman to live apart from her husband," Matthew said in a low voice, smirking at Mary.

Mary turned her head to look up at him, feeling him press against her back.

"Absolutely ridiculous," she whispered, smiling at him. "Why any woman would want to sleep without her husband next to her, let alone live apart, makes no sense."

Matthew kissed her, then embraced her and watched his wife fall asleep.

**Something She'll Never Regret:**

**Painswick House, Eaton Square, London, England, April 1922**

Mary opened her eyes, blinking several times as she adjusted to the darkness. She was used to waking up early now. During her mourning, she woke up at all hours of the night, sometimes shivering, oftentimes sobbing. It was impossible for her to go back to sleep, so she would lie in bed, staring at the ceiling or the wall with listless eyes, waiting for the sun to rise so she could distract herself with the day's routine. Now though, she was roused from slumber for entirely more pleasant reasons.

"You're awake before the Sun again," Matthew smiled, caressing her cheek. "You never used to wake up this early."

"I'm not waking up," Mary mumbled, her eyelids fluttering closed. "Not fully anyway. I'm simply relaxing in my husband's arms."

Matthew laughed, allowing her to snuggle closer to his warm presence.

"Do you remember the first time we woke up together in this bed?" she asked, smiling.

"Mmm," Matthew chuckled at the memory. "The first morning of our honeymoon."

"I was impressed how you seemed so comfortable in this strange house," Mary continued, keeping her eyes closed. "Up until then you'd never spent the night here."

"I was rather sated from the night before if I recall," Matthew smiled. "I probably would have felt well rested even if I had slept on the floor."

Mary laughed. "You did sleep rather soundly."

"Only after you wore me out."

"Well it would have been quite inconvenient if you had fallen asleep beforehand, and quite insulting if you had fallen asleep during," Mary lifted her eyebrow at him even with her eyes closed.

"And you know I always go to great lengths to spare you any insult," Matthew grinned, leaning down and kissing her lips.

"Mmm," Mary agreed.

"Sleep for another hour or so before you ring for Anna," Matthew kissed her forehead. "We have a fair bit to go over after breakfast, I'm afraid."

"Tom mentioned he had some reports to review," Mary added. "We should have the afternoon to ourselves though. We'll stay in tonight for dinner with Aunt Rosamund."

"You should spend time with her," Matthew nodded. "Poor Aunt Rosamund. The family uses her like a hotel."

"We provide most of the supplies in this hotel," Mary huffed through closed eyes. "Besides, she enjoys it. It gives her a surrogate real life."

Matthew laughed as he watched Mary fall back asleep.

* * *

"I'm actually pleased," Matthew noted. "I thought the lost crops would be higher since we planted the extra fields the season before."

"If we leave some of the lands fallow, that won't help generate extra income, but it will reduce costs. We need to convert to livestock faster than originally planned," Mary said, looking over the papers and sipping her tea.

"What about these farms?" Matthew pointed to two names on the ledger. "They're mostly sheep herds. Perhaps we should try and buy them back. It will be an initial cost, but we can get more for the wool in today's market than with the price cap on crops."

"Papa won't go for that," Mary shook her head. "He's upset enough that we aren't going to pay off the Death duties in one lump sum. Spending additional money on buying back farms will make his blood boil. Still, it's not a poor idea. If the wool is of sufficient quality, we may be able to bring it to London for the textile market. That's rather ambitious, though."

"Mary," Matthew hissed, looking up. "We forgot we're not alone."

Mary and Matthew looked at each other, then looked at Tom, who did not seem the least bit affected by Mary seemingly speaking out loud to herself. Tom sat still and stared blankly at the reports on the table in front of him.

"Tom? Did you hear me?" Mary asked, looking at Matthew and frowning.

Tom blinked and looked up. "I'm sorry. What were you saying?"

"I'd far rather know what you were thinking. You seemed somewhat haunted just now."

"It's nothing," Tom shook his head, smiling gamely for her. "Let's get to this mess. The government will expect us to know it inside and out."

Tom picked up a report and began studying it intently. Mary looked at Matthew again. They exchanged a concerned look before going back to their papers.

**Belgrave Square Gardens, Belgravia, London, England, April 1922**

"I've always liked this bench," Mary smiled, leaning back slightly and allowing the sun to catch her face briefly.

"The view's nice," Matthew agreed, staring at her. "It's not my favourite bench though."

"It's not your favourite bench in Belgravia or it's not your favourite bench in all of the many benches you've frequented?" Mary teased, looking at him from under the brim of her hat.

"It's fair enough but there's a bench outside the train station in Manchester that's quite comfortable."

"No doubt you spent many nights there in your youth," Mary played along. "I've heard that's what the middle class do – get drunk and pass out on public benches until the constables come around to collect them."

"Hardly," Matthew scoffed, drawing a laugh from his wife. "I never truly appreciated the usefulness of benches until I saw one paired with a large tree and some delightful conversation."

Mary blushed and smiled at him. "Still trying to charm your way into my good books are you?"

"I wasn't aware that I'd fallen out of them," Matthew smirked back.

"Well you must never take me or our marriage for granted, you know," Mary whispered, looking away and blinking as she realized the implication of her words.

"I could never do that," Matthew whispered against her ear. He stroked her face and she turned back towards him. She closed her eyes and smiled as he pressed a warm kiss to her lips. When he drew back, she leaned towards him, looking out at the statues around them peacefully.

"I never understood the obsession with foreign statues. You would think this park belonged in Spain or Argentina from the tributes placed here," Mary said idly.

"Indeed. Columbus, Bolivar, San Martin," Matthew agreed. "I like it though. It's a nice reminder."

"A reminder of what? That all great discoveries in the New World weren't made by the British?"

"No," Matthew smiled patiently. "That even in times when one is convinced there is nothing new to come, nothing to change one's lot, an entire new world is out there for us to find."

"How poetic," Mary smiled, looking at him. "But I'd be content with discovering a way to save Downton. I'm perfectly happy with the world we have now, with a few small changes."

Matthew laughed. "Let's hope your vision is shared by the tax authorities."

"Shall we head back?" he asked. "The dressing gong will sound in an hour."

"Let's wait a moment," Mary smiled, looking to the opulent homes around Belgrave Square. "All we have to look forward to tonight is a boring dinner and retiring to bed early. I'd like to enjoy this private time with my husband for a while longer."

"A capital idea," Matthew answered, putting his arm around her shoulders.

**Painswick House, Eaton Square, London, England, April 1922**

Mary eyed Anna curiously through the vanity mirror as her maid pinned her hair. Anna caught her stare several times and eventually smiled nervously.

"Will that do, Milady?" she asked.

Mary turned her head to inspect the coiff. "It's perfect, Anna, thank you."

Anna nodded and began organizing the combs and bottles on the vanity.

"Anna, are you quite certain that everything is all right?" Mary asked.

"Quite all right, Milady," Anna answered automatically.

"You know I don't mean to pry, even though I will admit I enjoy doing so from time to time, but I am still confounded that you would move out of your cottage. Downton's nice but privacy can be at a bit of a premium," Mary glanced over at Matthew, who smirked back at her. "And privacy is rather important for any marriage," she finished.

"I appreciate your concern, Milady," Anna said carefully, not meeting Mary's eyes. "But I just need to feel useful, and I don't think I'm at my best at the moment under current arrangements. If I'm back in the house, it will make things easier for me in a lot of ways."

When Anna looked up, her eyes were pleading for mercy. Mary took a breath, then rose from her vanity.

"Very well, Anna. I'll drop it for now," she said patiently. "But I won't apologize for raising it again. I'm concerned, very concerned. And if I find you aren't yourself over the coming weeks, I'll grow more concerned."

"Yes, Milady," Anna nodded, curtseying slightly and taking her leave.

Mary looked at Matthew and lifted her hands in disbelief.

"Come on, you're late for dinner," Matthew shrugged.

They walked downstairs towards the parlour. Matthew smiled to himself as he noticed Mary once again chose to wear her tiara and rings, despite them staying in for a simple dinner with family.

"It could be a blessing," she whispered to him as they crossed the foyer. "Hopefully we'll go straight through to the dining room and that will spare us from inane conversation."

"You'll still have to go through afterwards," Matthew smiled. "There's retiring early and then there's being rude."

"Funny, I never bothered to tell the difference," Mary smirked at him as she composed herself and entered the parlour.

"I'm sorry to keep you all waiting, but Anna couldn't find…oh…" Mary's eyes widened as she took in the full dinner party.

"Lord Gillingham," Matthew noted, shaking his head.

"I hope I'm a surprise and not a shock," Tony said to Mary, smiling graciously.

"Well, you're certainly unexpected," Mary said guardedly, glancing over at Matthew, then turning to her Aunt Rosamund.

"I thought I'd get up a small party. Just an informal one," Rosamund smiled.

"How generous of her," Matthew said quietly.

"You remember Sir John Bullock, Mary?" Rosamund asked.

"Of course," Mary nodded. "He and Lord Gillingham have just been staying with us at Downton."

"Cora said it had been a success," Rosamund acknowledged. "How lovely that you can continue your time together here in London."

"Yes," Mary's eyes narrowed. "How clever of you both to be free at such short notice," she said evenly.

"They brought your message to my club," Sir John said to Rosamund. "I had an evening of cards and whisky ahead so it was a welcome change," he smiled at Rose.

"And when I received your note, I cancelled what I was supposed to be doing," Tony smiled.

"My note?" Mary asked in surprise.

"Yes, Mary, I felt it only proper courtesy to have Lord Gillingham meet us tonight since you're both in London," Rosamund said cheerfully.

"I would expect Miss Lane Fox would mind the change in your plans," Mary noted.

"She wasn't bothered," Tony said, ignoring the tone of disapproval in Mary's voice. "Please don't punish me for wanting to see you again," he said quietly.

Mary glanced at Matthew. He was looking at Tony, his expression guarded.

"I won't punish you," Mary said calmly. "But I cannot speak for others."

"Mary, Sir John's got a marvellous idea for later on. He's invited us to hear the new band at the Lotus Club!" Rose clapped in glee.

"It isn't too jazzy," Sir John smiled. "Just a club with a good dance band."

"We can keep the young in order," Tony smiled at Mary. "That's if you like the sound of it."

"Please say yes, Mary, do!" Rose pleaded. "It's been eons since we've had any fun! Plus, Tom can come too, as Aunt Rosamund's partner!"

"I wasn't actually planning on…" Tom replied.

"Well you can't stay here by yourself with Mead and the servants," Rosamund laughed. "It's a family outing to hear a band play, and you are part of the family, aren't you?"

Tom remained silent.

Mary looked at Matthew, her eyes apologizing profusely. Matthew looked back at her, realizing how it was expected that Mary chaperone Rose while they were in London. All Matthew could do was shrug his shoulders and roll his eyes.

"I give in," Mary sighed.

"Excellent!" Rosamund cheered. "Let's have dinner. I seem to have developed quite an appetite."

Matthew grit his teeth and followed Mary into the dining room.

**Lotus Club, Mayfair, London, England, April 1922**

Mary had never been to a jazz club before, and was intrigued as they were escorted to their table. While the Lotus Club was hardly the outer rings of Dante's Inferno that Matthew had described his only other jazz club experience, the music was louder than Mary was used to. She could see how such clubs encouraged dancing close together. The music was so loud that one had to be close to maintain a conversation.

Mary sipped her drink and avoided the curious stare of her Aunt Rosamund. She saw that Tom was entirely bored but she could not talk to him over the din of the band. Rose and Sir John had gone on to the dance floor from the moment they arrived. While Matthew sat beside her, she could not speak to him with everyone sitting close by. She could not hear him with the noise of the band and the revellers filling her ears.

Matthew looked around the club suspiciously. It was actually quite nice, and far brighter than the last club he had attended with Rosamund and Rose. He absentmindedly stroked his hand across Mary's back, leaning towards her as he glanced around. He sighed with both bitterness and resignation. He had planned on taking Mary to a jazz club, just the two of them. They had been out dancing in London numerous times but mainly to formal balls and socials. Now they were at a club together, but eyes were on Mary. They could not laugh together, or talk together, or dance together the way Matthew wished. His grip along her back and over her shoulders grew more insistent.

Mary breathed in pleasure as she felt the warmth of her husband's hands across the thin silk of her gown. They could not laugh together. They could not talk together. They could not dance together unfortunately. But they could touch, and she was glad for his presence. She stole a glance at him and saw he was looking out across the dance floor. She smiled wistfully. He always told her he would take her to a jazz club after George was born and she had recovered her strength. He knew she loved to dance.

She leaned towards him, his arm moving closer over her shoulder. Matthew turned and saw her content expression. He smiled at her in understanding.

"Would you like to dance, Mary?" Tony asked with a smile.

Mary jumped slightly from his sudden close proximity. She recovered and shook her head no, smiling politely. Tony smiled again.

"Come on. We can't chaperone Lady Rose and Sir John from so far away. What if he tries something improper?"

Mary looked at Matthew. They exchanged helpless glances. He gave her another shrug. Mary sighed. Matthew stood up and stepped back as she rose and went past him, taking Tony's arm and walking on to the dance floor.

Mary was stiff in Tony's hold. Dancing with him reminded her of their dance at Downton, which of course reminded her of Matthew. She could not see him now with the crowd surrounding them. She kept her eye mainly on Rose, who was laughing and dancing with Sir John a few couples away from them. She knew he had to be watching her. She felt her skin warm with embarrassment.

"I hope you don't mind my ambushing you like this," Tony said.

Mary looked up at him, his face close to hers. "It was Mama and Aunt Rosamund who ambushed me. You're just a convenient pawn, like me."

"Can I see you again before you go?"

Mary's eyes widened in alarm. "How? The meeting's at noon and then we go straight to the station for home."

"Oh. I thought we'd have more time together once your appointment was completed."

"No, we won't," Mary said firmly. "And, anyway, you've told me you're engaged."

"I'm almost engaged," Tony corrected her.

"Almost counts in my book," Mary replied, her eyes narrowing. Tony nodded sheepishly and Mary softened a bit.

"Tony," she said more calmly. "I know how this must seem to you. You think I'm available, or ready, or something. The truth is that I'm not, and I won't be for many years yet."

"Mary, I don't believe that," Tony replied.

"Well, you must," Mary said. "I didn't invite you. Aunt Rosamund did. I'm sorry for that. I'm here only as a chaperone, not as someone looking for a different life. I have a life, and please don't misunderstand me, but that doesn't include you. It can't."

"Mary, Rose needs you," Matthew whispered in her ear.

Mary blushed fiercely at the sound of her husband's voice. She quickly released Tony when she saw Sir John running away, leaving Rose abandoned on the dance floor. She moved towards her, leaving Tony behind.

Mary stopped as Rose quickly resumed dancing with the Club's band leader. The young man smiled at her and she smiled back. Mary did not know whether to interrupt them or leave them be.

"Let's go back to the table, Mary," Matthew said, his arms slipping around her waist. "You can send Tom to collect her when the song is over."

Mary turned her head toward Matthew. She swayed her hips for a moment and smiled at him. "Or we could stay here…and dance," she raised her eyebrow at him.

Matthew smiled and kissed her forehead. "Perhaps another time, darling. You don't want to make a spectacle of yourself."

"Can I help?" Tony asked, coming up next to her.

"No," Mary said quickly, taking his arm and turning him back towards their table. "I'll send Tom to get her after the song is done. Let's go back to the others."

Tony nodded and escorted her off the dance floor.

"Tom, wait for this song to end, then go and get Rose, please," Mary instructed upon returning to her family.

"Why wait? Go and get her now! Do you see who's she's dancing with?" Rosamund shook her head.

"She's fine," Mary said bitterly, glaring at her Aunt. "There's no need to be rude."

Tom fetched Lady Rose at the end of the next song, bringing her back to the table with a peculiar smile on her face.

"Well, have we all had quite enough then?" Mary asked, looking around. "Let's be off. That's enough pretending for one night."

"Mary, about tomorrow…" Tony began as they reached their cars.

"Goodbye, Tony," Mary said curtly, nodding to him. "Thank you for accompanying us this evening."

"Goodnight, Mary," Tony nodded as the valet closed the car door behind her. Lord Gillingham watched the motor pull away from the curb and disappear into the night.

**Painswick House, Eaton Square, London, England, April 1922**

Mary closed her eyes for a moment. When the day began she was worried about memorizing numbers on crop yields and acreages and keeping her arguments to the tax authorities straight. As she made her way to the stairs, a range of emotions threatened to distract her from the very serious meeting awaiting her tomorrow.

She noticed a light still on in the parlour and as she walked over, she saw Tom sitting in a chair looking into the fireplace.

"What's the matter?" Mary asked.

"Nothing," Tom replied, not looking up at her.

"I don't believe that," Mary said dismissively. "You've been in a mood all day."

"There is something. But if I told you, you'd despise me," Tom sighed, looking up at her. His eyes looked tired and defeated, and Mary forgot her own fatigue momentarily.

"It may surprise you to hear that I said that to someone once. But I did confess in the end and it made things a lot better. It made things wonderful in fact."

"Well I can't see how things will end up wonderful for me," Tom groaned. "And I couldn't say it. Not to you."

"Then find someone you can tell, Tom, please. I know it sounds hollow now, but talking about whatever is troubling you will matter more than you know."

Tom looked at her in contemplation, then looked away.

"I'll think about it," he said shortly.

"Fine. Goodnight. Please try and get some sleep. I want to leave just a bit before luncheon so we arrive there early."

"I'll be ready," Tom replied softly.

She walked upstairs alone. Their bedroom was empty. He did not appear when she rang for Anna, nor as she prepared for bed. Mary was left alone when she dismissed Anna for the evening. He was not waiting for her when she tucked herself under the covers.

Mary felt a dull ache in the pit of her stomach. It wasn't the sadness or despondency she felt during her mourning. It wasn't the intense hurt or the sense of crumpling that she felt when she first heard the dreadful news. It was different. It was possibly worse. She felt ashamed.

"I told you I would betray you, Matthew," she whispered into the dark as she closed her eyes.

"I told you I wasn't going anywhere."

Mary gasped and her eyes shot open. Warmth touched her face and travelled down her arm. In the dark she could clearly make out his form, lying beside her where he always did.

"Matthew," she sighed gratefully.

"I was just looking in on Tom," Matthew said calmly. "I wanted to make sure he made it to bed and…that he went to sleep."

"A wise idea," Mary agreed. "Matthew, I…"

"There's nothing to apologize for," Matthew said. "Darling we said we would figure it out together as we went along, and this is part of it. Lord Gillingham is only doing what any man would – particularly when invited by both your Mama and Aunt Rosamund. You did nothing to encourage him, and so you have nothing to answer for."

"Still, it all felt quite wrong."

"Would it be selfish of me to say I'm glad to hear that?" Matthew chuckled.

"Yes," Mary smirked. "It certainly would."

"If we're lucky, you may dazzle one of the taxmen tomorrow and that might get us a break on the Death duties," he laughed.

"And here I thought you were sending me into the meeting for my intelligence and debating skill," Mary huffed in mock annoyance.

"My darling, we will need you to be at your brilliant best, although I don't know which meeting will be more difficult – tomorrow's, or when we return to see your Papa afterward."

Mary sighed. "One trial at a time, please, Matthew. Goodnight."

Mary closed her eyes and felt his arms around her, the warmth of him lulling her to sleep.

"Goodnight, my darling."

**Downton Abbey, England, April 1922**

"You're smiling again," Matthew said, looking down at his wife.

"I'm not," Mary huffed, rolling her eyes. She could not suppress another grin from appearing shortly afterward.

"Yes, you are," Matthew laughed. "If I'm not careful you're going to take off across the countryside offering to champion the plight of landowners everywhere against the tax authorities."

Mary laughed.

"Well it was terribly exciting wasn't it?" she giggled. "I've never stared down the government before. I didn't expect them to be so…receptive to our arguments. It was rather thrilling actually."

"They were quite agreeable," Matthew nodded. "I've never heard of anyone being granted such an extension, or such a compromise on the amount."

"Papa probably still won't be happy," Mary shook her head. "But I'm going to enjoy my small victory while I can."

"It wasn't small," Matthew smiled at her. "And you are entitled to enjoy it. You were brilliant, my darling."

"Well then, if I am so entitled," Mary smirked, leaning across the pillow towards him. "I think I deserve a proper congratulatory kiss."

"Who am I to deny the champion of the oppressed aristocracy?"

He leaned towards her and kissed her softly on the lips, maintaining the contact as Mary closed her eyes and sighed. She felt warmth spread from her face down through her chest. It was different from their other kisses, and she had learned to accept that, but this time felt different still. It felt more substantial, more solid, less like a soft caress and more like…

Mary jumped as someone knocked on her door firmly. She blinked and sat up in bed.

"Yes, come in," she said in a wavering voice.

Anna opened the door and bowed. "Milady, I'm sorry but there's someone here to see you. It's Lord Gillingham."

"Lord Gillingham?" Matthew frowned in confusion.

"Are you sure, Anna? We just saw him two days ago in London," Mary replied.

"Yes, Milady. I was surprised myself when Her Ladyship told me, but he's downstairs waiting for you. I don't think he means to stay, but he asked for you."

"I have a meeting with Tom in the Village shortly," Mary thought aloud as she got up out of bed. She turned back to Anna. "Tell Lord Gillingham I'll be down in a moment."

Anna left and closed the door behind her.

"What could we he want?" Mary asked as she checked her hair in the vanity mirror.

"Is that a rhetorical question?" Matthew smiled.

"Don't be juvenile," Mary scolded. "You heard me in London. I told him in no uncertain terms where I stand."

"Yes, you did," Matthew remarked. "Men seem to have difficulty taking no for an answer when it comes to you, darling."

"I suppose that's true," Mary sighed. "You didn't," she looked at him pointedly.

"Much to my great joy," Matthew smirked, coming over and kissing her cheek. "Perhaps he's here to apologize. Be polite to him. I'm going to check on Tom to make sure he's ready to leave. His mood hasn't improved much from the other night."

"No, it hasn't. Just make sure he's organized and ready. I won't be long with Tony."

Mary came downstairs into the Great Hall. Tony turned and smiled as she approached.

"It is you," Mary nodded to him. "When Anna told me I thought there must be a mistake."

"I came in on the morning train," Tony explained. "I'm not staying long, but I'd like to speak with you privately if I may."

"I'd invite you for tea, but unfortunately Tom and I are leaving shortly for a meeting in the Village with some of the tenants. If you'd like to wait, I can see if Papa or Mama are available to entertain you."

"No, that's not necessary. If we could take a walk just outside, that should be enough time."

"Fine," Mary answered. "I'm already dressed to go out in any event."

"You look lovely," Tony smiled.

"Thank you," Mary said nervously.

They walked a short distance from Downton Abbey, crossing over a slight rise, keeping them out of ear shot from the house.

"I assume you're going to give me an explanation at some stage," Mary stated.

"It's not complicated," Tony said, taking a deep breath. "I have made a long journey to ask you a short question."

He stopped, taking hold of Mary by her shoulders and turning her towards him. Mary frowned at the contact, but remained still.

"Will you marry me?" he asked.

Mary's eyes went wide. "You can't be serious!" she exclaimed.

"I am quite serious, I assure you. I am serious and entirely genuine. I love you, Mary," Tony nodded.

"Tony, you don't know me," Mary shook her head in consternation. She did not expect this from him at all.

"How can you say that?" he asked. "We've known each other since we were children."

"Yes, but with a very long gap in the middle, a gap that covered the most important time of my life, to be honest. We only met properly a few days ago. You can't possibly want to spend the rest of your life with me based on that?" Mary asked in disbelief.

"That's exactly what I want," Tony said firmly. "Look, Mary, I remember what you said in London. I never met Matthew, but I'm sure he was a splendid chap."

Mary face paled at the mention of her husband. "He was," she said strongly. "Splendid does not do justice to him."

"He's dead, Mary," Tony said softly. "He's dead and I'm alive."

Mary's mouth gaped in shock.

"We're good together, Mary," Tony continued. "We could be so happy if you'd let us."

"What about your fiancée?" Mary demanded. "You'd throw Miss Lane Fox over for someone you've barely known for a week?"

"I like Mabel…a lot," Tony acknowledged. "But I'm not in love with her as I am with you. You fill my brain, Mary. I see you when I close my eyes. I can't stop thinking of you – where you are, what you're doing, and how I want to be by your side for all of it."

Mary looked away, back over the field and at Downton Abbey in the distance. She looked for a sign of her husband, to see if Matthew was watching, listening. She breathed deeply, calming her nerves.

"Am I being at all persuasive?" Tony asked hopefully.

"I'll admit that it is a very valiant attempt," Mary nodded, looking back at him.

"Then be persuaded. You don't have to go ahead with it now if you can't yet. You take as long as you need. Two years, three, however long it takes. Just accept now and I'll wait. So long as I know that you'll marry me in the end."

"Tony," Mary sighed. "What will you do if I refuse?"

"We both know I must marry," Tony said bitterly. "Society demands it. I cannot be Lord of my family and not have a Countess with me. You know how our system works, how it traps us. It wouldn't be fair to Mabel to keep her in limbo. I'd break up with her for you. I strongly believe she's kind enough that she would understand."

"She would have to be that kind at least," Mary shook her head.

"If you don't want me though, then I think I'm honour bound to go through with it. I don't want to go back to London without your answer, but I know I must leave today."

Mary closed her eyes and sighed. She opened them and looked sadly into his anxious face.

"You've put me in an impossible situation. If I say I can't, you'll think that I may be able to someday. If I say I won't, you'll be hurt and I don't want to hurt you when you've done nothing to deserve it," Mary explained.

"I'm not free of him, Tony. You say I fill your brain, well Matthew fills mine. But you see, the difference is that he also fills my heart, still to this day. And I don't want to be without him. And I can't promise that I ever will."

"Can I ask one favour? Just one," Tony whispered. "And then I will go and leave you in peace."

"What is it?"

"Will you kiss me? Please. I will never love again as I love you in this moment. And I must have something to remember."

Tony stepped towards her. Mary's eyes went wide and she held up her hands. Part of her expected Matthew to appear and strike him down on the spot somehow. Another part of her was not surprised when he didn't.

"Tony," her voice stopped him in his tracks. "If you remember anything, remember this – you deserve to be loved. You deserve to be loved properly. You say our system traps us. That's not true. Matthew taught me that. He taught me that we are only trapped when we permit it to happen. I convinced myself numerous times that I would grow to be happy with whichever man was seated next to me at dinner. I never had to talk myself into loving Matthew. I simply did, much earlier than I knew. And I am the luckiest woman in the world that he loved me."

Tony let out a breath and blinked.

"I don't love you," Mary said softly but firmly. "You think I could be persuaded to, or I could grow to over time, but you shouldn't have to wait for that. You need to find the right love for you. It isn't with me. If it isn't with Miss Lane Fox then so be it. I feel terribly cruel, but my answer is no. I won't marry you. And I won't kiss you. And someday, I hope you understand that you are better for it."

Mary stood firm, her nerves tense. She knew her husband was watching somehow and she needed to show her resolve both to him and to herself.

"Goodbye Mary," Tony whispered. "My darling Mary." He nodded and walked away, quickly reaching his waiting motor and leaving for the train station.

Mary looked across the fields, the wind blowing softly around her. She let out a deep breath and turned.

"Are you all right?"

Mary nodded, sniffling slightly as she walked in step with him.

"I think he genuinely cares for you," Matthew said with great difficulty. "Are you certain that you…"

"Yes," Mary said fiercely. "If you think that I'm willing to move on from the greatest love I've ever known to someone I've only truly met over a matter of days, then you're mad."

Matthew smiled as they walked for a while longer in silence. She glanced over at him and could not help but smile herself as she saw his beaming face.

"He was rather bold, asking you for a kiss," Matthew said nonchalantly. "It took me years to build up enough courage to ask for that."

"If I remember correctly, you kissed me numerous times without asking," she teased.

"Well, there were numerous times where you ordered me to," he answered.

Mary smiled.

"Do I need to ask from now on?" he wondered.

"No," Mary smiled at him. "And you can expect that I will still order you to."

They laughed together as they reached the driveway. Mary reached her waiting car and was pleased to see Tom smiling at her. She smiled back and stepped in. Tom closed her door and went around, getting in next to her.

"You're in a good mood," he remarked, smiling to her.

"So are you," Mary noted. "You seem much more cheerful than when we were in London."

"I am. I took your advice and talked it out. I'm pleased to report that it's all worked out and I'm off the hook."

"I'm glad for you," Mary said truthfully. "We've hard days ahead and I need you to have your wits about you."

Tom nodded. "It won't all be sad and depressing though, will it?" he asked.

"No," Mary smiled, savouring the feeling of warmth across her cheek and neck.

"Do you regret it at all? Taking control of Matthew's share of the Estate and standing up to the Earl? Now that you've seen what's truly facing us?"

"No," Mary said immediately, looking over at her husband as Tom drove them down the driveway. "Where Matthew is concerned, I could never regret any of it. Besides, it's not all so bad. We'll always find time for life's pleasures. We have to. Otherwise what's the point of going to all of this trouble?"


	7. Holding on to the Past

**Previously:**

**Downton Abbey, England, April 1922**

"I'm glad for you," Mary said truthfully. "We've hard days ahead and I need you to have your wits about you."

Tom nodded. "It won't all be sad and depressing though, will it?" he asked.

"No," Mary smiled, savouring the feeling of warmth across her cheek and neck.

"Do you regret it at all? Taking control of Matthew's share of the Estate and standing up to the Earl? Now that you've seen what's truly facing us?"

"No," Mary said immediately, looking over at her husband as Tom drove them down the driveway. "Where Matthew is concerned, I could never regret any of it. Besides, it's not all so bad. We'll always find time for life's pleasures. We have to. Otherwise what's the point of going to all of this trouble?"

**Holding on to the Past:**

**Downton Abbey, England, May 1922**

"And you would foreclose and take back the farm, I assume?"

"Of course," Matthew huffed at his wife. "I wanted to foreclose on him last year when the overdue rents were only half what they are now. I served the papers and was ready to move ahead with it."

"Well how convenient that he's gone and died then," Mary retorted.

Matthew rolled his eyes. "I was going to move them into a cottage with a more affordable rent, you know that. I raised it with you numerous times."

"So why didn't you?"

"Because you threatened to…" Matthew calmed himself before continuing. "Because you threatened to ensure my side of the bed would be very cold for a full month if I foreclosed on him," he said.

Mary smiled. "See, darling? You can make the correct decisions when you are thinking properly and realize what's truly at stake."

Matthew laughed ruefully.

"And I would say you ended up far ahead in the bargain. Your side of the bed remained quite warm, if I recall," she said with false indifference.

"As wonderful a memory as that is," Matthew continued. "What do you want to do about the Drewe farm now?"

"We'll need to take it back," Mary admitted. "I mentioned it to Tom and we'll meet with Papa later today. Nothing will happen until after the funeral this morning though." Mary rose from the bed and adjusted her dress.

"Certainly," Matthew agreed, rising from the bed and following her out the door of their bedroom.

"Have you learned anything more about Anna and Bates?" he asked as they walked down the hall to the stairs.

"Nothing," Mary shook her head. "She's been living in her old room for a week now and nothing seems amiss. She hasn't slipped up with her work so I've had no reason to inquire further."

Matthew sighed. "I haven't discovered anything either, except for that Bates is distraught. He keeps waiting for her before they go in for breakfast with the most confused look on his face."

"I'll have to talk to Mrs. Hughes," Mary frowned as they descended the stairs.

"Do you think she knows anything?"

"Anna would have had to give her some reason to move back into the house, and I expect Mrs. Hughes would not have accepted the same thin excuse that I did," Mary stated. "They should be finishing their morning chores by now. Why don't you go downstairs and see if you can find Anna speaking with her while I go see if Tom set up the meeting with Papa?"

"You want me to eavesdrop?" Matthew gave her a look of invented shock.

"Don't be such a prat," Mary rolled her eyes and leaned towards him.

Matthew laughed and kissed her cheek. He went downstairs while Mary went into the library.

"Mama," she said as she came into the room. "Have you seen Tom? I told him to set up a meeting with Papa to talk about one of the farms."

"I think he went to the stables," Cora replied, looking up from the newspaper. "Your Papa said he's been summoned by both of you to the library this afternoon."

"Good," Mary smiled, sitting down on the opposite sofa and glancing at several books spread out on the table.

"I hope this meeting won't be about something you're going to fight about," Cora sighed, folding the newspaper.

"Well I can't answer that until I know what his reaction will be," Mary said lightly. Catching her Mama's concerned gaze, she rolled her eyes. "I don't want a fight, but I can predict what he'll say."

"And it won't be in agreement with your plans," Cora presumed.

"I don't understand why he's so against everything," Mary said plainly. "He discussed all of this with Matthew before. The world moves on, and we must move with it."

"Matthew kept telling him that, and you saw how well that went," Cora replied. "Talking of the world moving on, I suppose you've seen this," she said, handing Mary the newspaper.

Mary took it and glanced at the particular page. She blinked.

"The engagement is announced between the Viscount Gillingham and the Honourable Mabel Lane Fox, only child of the late Lord Osweston," Cora repeated.

"How lovely," Mary commented.

"Oh Mary," Cora sighed.

"Don't, Mama," Mary warned, looking at her pointedly and passing back the newspaper. "I'm still angry with you and Aunt Rosamund over that ridiculous scheme."

"The only thing ridiculous about it was your refusal to take care of Lord Gillingham," Cora answered calmly. "You saw the way he looked at you during the party. He invited you to dance, Mary. And he clearly wanted to see you in London, and you refused. Lord knows why," Cora rolled her eyes.

"He is engaged, Mama! You would have me throw myself at him when he's already pledged to someone else?" Mary hissed.

"Nothing was official then, obviously," Cora held up the newspaper. "But clearly something happened when he came here to see you afterward, because he's beyond your reach now."

"The only thing that happened," Mary said icily. "Is that I reminded him of his situation, and of mine."

"And what was that? You're out of mourning, Mary. He was obviously available and interested in you. It's time you look to your future. You weren't so stubborn about this before," Cora shook her head.

"Don't you dare compare Patrick and Matthew!" Mary roared, her eyes wide as she rose from the sofa. "I mourned Patrick as a cousin, which was entirely proper as that was what he was, regardless of what you and Papa had arranged. Matthew is my husband! The father of my child! The love of my life if you didn't realize it!"

"And he's gone, Mary," Cora looked at her firmly. "I am glad that your mood has improved, but if you truly wish to move with the world as you say, then you need to look beyond burying yourself in Estate affairs. You need to secure your future."

"I'm not having this conversation," Mary rolled her eyes. "I have enough to deal with over Papa's intransigence. I have no time to be beating back suitors that you invite over under false pretences. Leave me be, Mama. My future will resolve itself in due time. I don't need you trying to hurry things along."

Cora shook her head as Mary turned and left the library.

Fuming, Mary went outside. She needed to walk to distance herself from her family, and she needed air to fight off the stifling feeling coming over her. How could a house so large feel so confining sometimes?

She wandered out past the Rose Garden and around the corner, not paying attention to where she was heading, just needing to breathe and calm herself. She knew that if she strayed too far, Matthew would come and fetch her. She had no basis for this belief, but she felt it as surely as knowing her own name.

Mary realized belatedly that her bitter thoughts and lack of attention to where she was going had carried her all the way beyond the far wing of Downton Abbey and over to the door to the Servants' Hall. She would not have cared and would have kept walking if she did not abruptly come upon a forlorn figure standing near the door.

"My Lady!" Bates exclaimed, wiping his eyes and bowing as Mary came upon him.

"Bates," Mary said in a concerned voice, noticing the clear tracks of his tears on his face and his flushed complexion as he fought back an embarrassed blush.

"I'm just on break at the moment while his Lordship is at the funeral, My Lady," Bates nodded, swallowing hard.

"Of course, Bates," Mary said, lost for words. "How is Mama's new maid getting along?"

"She seems fine, My Lady," Bates said, thankful for a topic of conversation to fill the heavy void. "She has an electric sewing machine, and it's making Mrs. Patmore see red."

Mary smiled and nodded in amusement. "I don't think there's anything about the changing times that Mrs. Patmore will accept without resistance."

"No, I don't think there is," Bates chuckled. "But times are changing, aren't they My Lady? And we must accept that, mustn't we?" Bates became very serious.

Mary sighed as she looked upon his creased face and his sad expression. "There are some things that don't change, Bates. Some things endure no matter how much the world moves around us."

Bates gave her a game smile. "His Lordship will be back shortly. I should get on."

Mary nodded and her Papa's valet went back inside. Mary sighed again and resumed her walk, the fight with her Mama and her anger now seeming almost trivial.

* * *

"Anything?" Mary asked as she came into the Great Hall and greeted her husband.

"Nothing," Matthew replied as he fell in step with her. "Anna left this morning to get supplies for you in Ripon. Mrs. Hughes seems to be avoiding Bates whenever she can, though. She does seem to know something."

"As I expected," Mary shook her head. "I saw Bates outside earlier. He's rather distraught."

"Well, you'll have to put out that fire later. You have a more pressing negotiation ahead of you now," Matthew said as they entered the library.

"Ah, Mary, there you are. Tom said the two of you wanted to meet with me?" The Earl of Grantham kissed her cheek and Mary blinked in surprise.

"You're rather cheerful for someone who just came back from a tenant's funeral," Mary noted, looking at Tom, who smiled back, as perplexed as she was.

"I met Mr. Drewe the younger. He reminded me that their family has been working with us since the Napoleonic Wars. I'd forgotten just how long our ancestors have been together. It means a great deal to me that we've managed over so many trying times."

"Well, there's more on the horizon, I'm afraid," Mary began. "We've drawn up the papers, as you know. It's time we got on with it and took their farm back."

"You want to foreclose?" Robert asked.

"Yes, Papa. We really ought to have foreclosed last year when the arrears were already out of hand."

"I remember Matthew had the papers drawn up," Robert noted. "He stayed his hand, though. I never knew why."

"Because you tied my hands to the bedposts," Matthew said to her teasingly.

Mary blushed and looked away.

"It's a shame," Tom said. "But Yew Tree Farm is in a favourable position, it will fill a gap in the lands we already farm, and Matthew wanted to consolidate everything together."

Matthew nodded at Tom appreciatively.

"I should tell you that Drewe's son anticipated the foreclosure and wants to take back the lease in his father's stead," Robert reported.

Matthew raised his eyebrow at this new development.

"Where will he get the money to pay the outstanding rent?" Mary asked.

"I don't know," Robert admitted. "But if he can raise it, I'm inclined to let him stay."

"Even though he has no legal right?" Tom asked.

"He may not have a legal right, but his family have been partners with the Crawley's for time immemorial, so I believe he has a moral right to try and put things back in order before we throw him out. Surely you can appreciate that," he said pointedly.

"Of course, I can," Tom replied, his face flushing. "But giving indulgences and favours was what put his family in this hole to begin with."

Mary rolled her eyes. "Papa, handing out charity is the surest way to waste the tax forgiveness and extensions I've already won for us. We don't owe as much money as we thought, but we do owe money, and we need those rents to pay it."

"A decision doesn't need to be made today," Robert said firmly. "If young Mr. Drewe comes up with the money shortly then we have a motivated young farmer who will work to the bone to restore his family name and keep us happy. That surely is worth taking a few days before summoning the executioner."

"We're not killing him, Papa," Mary shook her head. "We're evicting him."

Matthew smirked at his wife's retort.

"I'm meeting with him tomorrow. You'll know then if you're getting paid or not. You can wait another day, can't you?"

"Fine," Mary said, glancing at Matthew. "But if Mr. Drewe the younger doesn't pay off these arrears in short order, I'm going to explain the intricacies of lease defaults to him myself."

She turned and left the library, leaving her Papa and brother-in-law looking at each other.

**Law Office of Alexander Lewis, May 1922**

Alex closed the door behind him and walked through to this office. He sat down at his desk and rubbed the bridge of his nose, closing his eyes and breathing deeply.

"If this is how you look when you win, you must be an awful fright when you lose," Michelle said.

"You should see me in the morning," Alex replied, opening his eyes and smirking at her. "My wife says I look absolutely ghastly."

"You never look ghastly," she corrected him. "I said your breath smells ghastly. That's why you don't get a kiss until you've woken up and properly cleaned yourself," she said smugly.

"Anyway, winning today's case was quite easy. On more important matters, I filed the Matthew Crawley report," Alex said, rolling his eyes and changing the subject. "Everything appears to be in order."

"Good," Michelle replied easily. "You were rather concerned before."

"Well I wasn't entirely sure how he was going to handle that proposal business."

"It doesn't matter how he handles it. All that matters is how she does."

"That's assuming that he'll stay," Alex noted. "Which is not an entirely safe assumption."

Michelle paused and looked at him. "He's not you. She's not me. You can't make them be us, no matter how much you want to," she said firmly, keeping her eyes locked on his.

Alex looked away and remained quiet.

**Downton Abbey, England, May 1922**

"Where to now, darling? Taking Diamond out for a gallop or pursuing the interrogation of Mrs. Hughes?" Matthew smiled.

"Neither. I have someone far more important to visit," she replied with a mysterious smile as she led him up the stairs.

Matthew beamed as she walked briskly down the hall and into the nursery. Tom was sitting on the floor with Sybbie and looked up and smiled as Mary came into the room. Mary crossed over to the crib and lifted George into her arms, cooing to him and carrying him over to a chair. She sat down and balanced him on her lap.

"Thought I would get in an extra ten minutes before getting on with the rest of the day," Mary explained, smiling at George, who looked at her with a mix of confusion and interest.

"You're just in time. Sybbie says there's going to be a hurricane any moment now," Tom smiled, adjusting the toys in front of them.

"A hurricane? Really? In Yorkshire?" Mary said cheerfully, looking at Sybbie. The young infant nodded her head and bit her lower lip as she smiled back.

"So we're getting all the animals under shelter," Tom explained, moving a small elephant from one spot to another.

Mary smiled as she felt warmth across her back and shoulders. She smiled at George, who looked at her somewhat nervously.

"Well that sounds like a good plan," Mary concluded. "Where's Nanny?"

"Collecting some clothes from the laundry. I said I'd stay with them," Tom answered, helping Sybbie move a toy lion into the shelter.

Mary turned George slightly towards Matthew. The baby stared at the window blankly. Matthew smiled.

"He's a very lovely little boy, isn't he?" Matthew said.

"Mmm," Mary nodded.

George began to fuss, his face contorting and his mouth opening and closing as he squirmed.

Mary swallowed, holding him cautiously in front of her.

"Bring him closer, darling," Matthew said encouragingly. "He just needs to feel your warmth, that's all."

Mary carefully brought her son to her chest and shoulder, cradling him to her body.

George settled down and rested his head against her. Mary looked at him and smiled.

"See, darling? You're wonderful," Matthew grinned.

"Everything all right, Mary?" Tom asked, looking up at her.

"Just fine, Tom, thank you," Mary answered, rubbing her cheek against her son's head and smiling wide at Matthew.

"I have to say, it's strange to me that my daughter has a Nanny, or that she's growing up here," Tom thought aloud.

"Nanny is much different than the one I had growing up, God knows," Mary smiled, still looking at George. "I know you wanted to raise your child in Ireland, Tom, but Sybbie's happy here isn't she? We've done well for her, haven't we?"

"Yes," Tom agreed, looking at his daughter. "I just worry about her. I find that I worry about a lot of things."

"You're a parent," Mary said quietly, looking at her son. "It's part of the job to worry, it seems."

* * *

"She's here," Matthew said to his wife. Mary looked up from the writing desk.

"You wished to see me, My Lady?"

"Yes, thank you for coming, Mrs. Hughes. This will only take a moment," Mary said, turning in her chair to face the head housekeeper.

"How may I help you, My Lady?"

"I need your assistance with his Lordship. I'll speak to Carson later, but I thought it best to speak to you first."

"Of course, My Lady. What shall I do?"

Mary looked over at Matthew and he nodded at her in reassurance.

"We're going to dismiss Mr. Bates and I want you and Carson to ensure the staff do not gossip about it when it happens," Mary said authoritatively.

"Dismiss Mr. Bates?!" Mrs. Hughes exclaimed. "May I ask why, My Lady?" she recovered.

"I know it will come as a shock to everyone, but clearly there's something wrong with him and I can't have him in this house any longer," Mary said with rehearsed coldness.

"Well if his Lordship is not happy with him, then I sadly must agree he must go," Mrs. Hughes said dejectedly.

"His Lordship hasn't complained about him, actually," Mary said, her pulse quickening. "I'm more concerned about the fact that Anna has moved back into Downton. I cannot imagine any legitimate reason for a wife to live apart from her husband, and so I must presume it is something that Mr. Bates has done."

Mrs. Hughes' eyes widened. "Forgive me, My Lady, but perhaps there is something that the two of them just need to work on between themselves?"

"I don't wish to meddle in their private affairs, Mrs. Hughes," Mary said indifferently. She glared quickly as Matthew smirked at her choice of words. "However, Anna tells me nothing is amiss in her marriage, and yet the evidence clearly indicates otherwise. I cannot tolerate a lady's maid who is distracted or in distress of any kind. I must rely upon Anna, Mrs. Hughes, especially with Master George now dependent on her as well. I must remove all sources of difficulty for Anna to ensure she does her job properly, and Mr. Bates is one of them obviously, so he must go."

"Perhaps I can speak to Anna, My Lady?" Mrs. Hughes suggested carefully. "I would hate to see her give up her marriage over this."

"Her marriage is her own business, of course," Mary replied easily. "But I must remove Mr. Bates from Downton, so at least while Anna is working, she is focused on her tasks. Having him under the same roof is surely torture for her, regardless of the actual reason for their issues."

"Have you spoken to Anna about this, My Lady? Not to suggest that you need her input, but I believe she will be terribly distraught when she finds out."

"No, she's in Ripon getting supplies," Mary said carefully.

Matthew looked at the two women nervously.

"Mrs. Hughes," Mary said slowly. "Why do you say that Anna will be terribly distraught if Mr. Bates is dismissed? I understand that she is the one who moved out of their cottage. Why would she do that unless she did not love him anymore?"

"It's not for me to say, My Lady," Mrs. Hughes replied nervously. "But I know that Anna loves Mr. Bates very, very much."

"Well if you believe that she still loves him then I could be persuaded to keep him on," Mary replied, watching the head housekeeper intently. "But I cannot act on merely your assurances or even Anna's. I need to be certain that there will be no problems for Anna, so if you have some basis for why you believe Mr. Bates deserves to say, I implore you to tell me."

Mrs. Hughes paused, then closed her eyes wearily before opening them and replying to Mary. "As you wish, My Lady. I know the pain of coming back home to find Mr. Bates gone would finish Anna, so I will tell you what happened to keep Mr. Bates here, and if I'm doing the wrong thing, then I ask for the mercy of God."

Mary frowned, then motioned for Mrs. Hughes to take a nearby chair. Matthew came forward and stood next to his wife.

"Go on," Mary urged.

Mrs. Hughes carefully recounted what she knew. She explained how she found Anna huddled in a corner downstairs on the last night of the house party, her lip cut and bleeding, her hair and clothes dishevelled, crying in terror. She explained Anna's confession, that she was assaulted horribly, and how Anna swore Mrs. Hughes to secrecy to protect Bates. When she finished, she stared at the carpet and shook her head.

Mary looked at Matthew, her eyes wide and her mouth agape. He shook his head in anger and confusion.

"I never imagined anything remotely close to this," Mary said quietly. "And it was an assailant who broke into the house, you say?"

"Yes. You must not tell Mr. Bates, My Lady, I beg you!" Mrs. Hughes implored.

"I won't tell him how I found out," Mary said. "But I must speak with him, Mrs. Hughes. The man is in great pain. He cannot understand why his wife has rejected him and continuing to break his heart for his own protection is complete nonsense."

"Anna said better that he have a broken heart than something worse," Mrs. Hughes replied. "Also, My Lady, I believe that Anna is very ashamed. She considers herself damaged goods in her husband's eyes."

"What?!" Matthew cried.

Mary swallowed hard and glanced at her husband in concern.

"Leave it to me," Mary said softly. "I won't let either of them know that you told me. Please send Mr. Bates to me immediately."

"Yes, My Lady," Mrs. Hughes rose and bowed, and walked quickly out of the library.

"Oh, Matthew!" Mary sobbed. He wrapped his arms around her and she leaned back in the chair, feeling his warmth around her as she covered her face with her hand.

"How could I let this happen to her? If I hadn't been so busy entertaining Tony, then I…"

"Shh," Matthew said soothingly. "It isn't your fault. It isn't Anna's fault. We have to come up with a plan to help them now."

Mary nodded. "Bates will be here soon. I'll tell him what I know but how do we get him and Anna back together?"

"I have an idea," Matthew said, kissing her cheek. "Tell him what you know, and I'll guide you through the rest of it."

"My Lady? You summoned me?"

"Yes, Bates, please come in and sit down," Mary said, composing herself and motioning to a chair.

Bates took a seat and Mary paused, choosing her words carefully. Matthew's hand massaged her shoulder and she relaxed.

"Bates, I have something very important to discuss with you regarding Anna. First though I must have your promise that you will remain calm and hear me out. Second, you must swear to me that you will do nothing rash. Third, I must have your assurance that you will not repeat this conversation to Anna without properly considering all of the consequences."

Bates' eyes widened and his lip tightened. He swallowed.

"Forgive me, My Lady, but your conditions are difficult to agree to without knowing what it is you are going to tell me first."

Mary nodded. "Bates, you know that I have Anna's well being at heart, and yours as well, and you also know very well that I have been the strongest supporter of your marriage. I know that you and Anna are having problems. I know that she moved out of your cottage. I also know how you can possibly make things right with her, but I cannot assist you unless you trust me."

"Very well," Bates said. "My life was perfect a short while ago, and now it's not, and I will do anything to get it back again."

"Good," Mary nodded. "You must know to begin with that Anna still loves you. She loves you very much. Women can do all manner of things in the name of love, Bates, even something as misguided as moving away from her husband."

Matthew's warmth spread across her shoulders and back.

"Anna was attacked, Bates," Mary said, holding up her hand as Bates' mouth opened to speak and his eyes went wide. "She believes that by distancing herself from you, she is protecting you. She wants to forget that it ever happened, but she can't do that around you because every loving look that you give her, every touch, is a reminder that she was violated by someone else, and right now, she believes herself to be fallen."

Bates and Matthew stared at Mary in astonishment.

"I don't understand," Bates spat out. "How could she not come to me about this? I can't protect her if she tries to go it alone. I have to be there for her. I have to help her. Why wouldn't she tell me?"

"What are you feeling right now, Bates? Are you thinking of helping your wife heal, or are you wondering who her assailant is?"

Bates blinked in shock.

"You haven't said when…it happened, My Lady. Do you know?" Bates asked.

"No," Mary replied coolly.

"It must have been the last night of the house party," Bates said, causing Mary and Matthew to both frown. "She told me she fainted and hit her head, and that's where the cuts came from," Bates explained.

"If it happened on that that night," he continued, "then I know who her attacker was. I think it was Lord Gillingham's valet, who teased her, who was eyeing her from the moment he arrived," Bates said bitterly.

Mary's eyes went wide and she looked at Matthew. He nodded back towards Bates and she turned.

"I don't think that's possible," Mary said slowly. "Lord Gillingham's valet never left the concert, if I recall. It could not have been him."

"I don't believe that," Bates replied. "And I will find out who did this," he said firmly, looking at the floor with fierce eyes.

Mary sighed and shook her head. "Bates, listen to yourself. Do you honestly believe revenge will save your marriage?"

Bates blinked and looked at Mary. "My Lady?"

"Anna is distraught, Bates! Your wife is in pain, not because she wants her attacked dead, not because she wants revenge. She's done what she's done because she's afraid, don't you see? She doesn't think she's worthy of you anymore! She doesn't think she belongs in your house. She doesn't think herself deserving of your love because of what's happened to her."

"Mary," Matthew said.

"But how is that possible?" Bates cried. "I could never hold this against her. She's done nothing wrong at all, she must know that."

"How would she?" Mary said sadly. "She can't bear your pity or your anger Bates, as she thinks she's the cause of all of it. I suspect that's why she moved back here. That's why she's thrown herself into her work. Thinking about you, thinking about anything else, only brings the pain back. And if you think that bringing justice to her attacker will make everything right, then perhaps she is right to keep you away."

"No!" Bates sobbed. "I can't let this happen. I have to help her! What can I do, My Lady? Has she said anything? I beg you!"

"She hasn't revealed anything to me, Bates," Mary shook her head. "But a woman knows about these types of things," she said cryptically. "You must go to her. It doesn't matter how you found out. It doesn't matter that you know. What matters is that you show her it changes nothing for you. You must show her that you still love her. She can't forgive herself until she knows you can forgive her, Bates."

"She's done nothing wrong for me to forgive," Bates whispered, his expression breaking.

"She'll be back shortly, Bates. I want you to think very carefully about what you'll say to her. You must not be angry. You must not judge. If I hear that you have made things worse then I will keep Anna in this house and away from you, I promise you," Mary said icily.

"Yes, My Lady," Bates nodded and rose from his chair. "Thank you, My Lady. I am very grateful."

"My part was easy, Bates," Mary said. "You must pull the load now."

Bates nodded. "If I may say, My Lady, this is the type of advice that Mr. Matthew used to give me, back when I didn't think Anna could ever love me."

Mary blinked.

"I miss him, My Lady. He always fought my corner, I thought."

Matthew sighed.

"He did, Bates," Mary agreed. "He liked you. The both of you. And he would want you to do the right thing now, I know it."

Bates nodded and took his leave.

Mary rose from her chair and walked over to the window, looking out over the grounds. Matthew put his arms around her waist and kissed her neck softly. She leaned toward him and they stood together in silence.

* * *

"Remember, don't push her. If she has anything to report, she'll let you know," Matthew said, lying back against the pillows as Mary stood facing the mirror.

"We would already know what happened if you had just followed him and seen what they discussed," Mary rolled her eyes, removing her jewellery and gloves.

"I'm your Protector, not the local constable," Matthew said pointedly. "I'm not supposed to be roaming around solving crimes and saving marriages. I've got enough to do trying to keep up with my wife, if you please."

Mary smiled.

"Milady," Anna nodded as she came into the room. She crossed over and helped Mary out of her dress and corset. Matthew stared unashamedly at Mary's reflection in the mirror as Anna took the clothes away and went to fetch her nightgown.

"Enjoying the view?" Mary whispered, looking at him through the mirror and smirking.

"Quite," Matthew said, raising his eyebrows to her.

Anna returned and helped Mary change into her nightgown and dressing gown. Mary sat down at her vanity and Anna began removing the combs from her hair.

"You're quiet tonight," Mary noted as Anna took her hair down.

"I'm sorry, Milady, I've just been thinking is all."

"That sounds serious," Mary smirked.

"It is, but it's lovely all the same," Anna smiled.

"Really?" Mary smiled hopefully. "Well, I could use some cheer as you know. That is, if it's something you're willing to share."

"Oh it's nothing much, really," Anna replied. "I'm going to be moving back to the cottage though."

Matthew smiled.

"That's wonderful news, Anna," Mary said. "Is everything sorted then?"

"Yes," Anna nodded, brushing out Mary's hair. "I had a talk with Mr. Bates and everything is...much better, thank you. We had some problems but we're going to try and put all of that behind us."

"Good. I'm glad to hear it. Marriage isn't easy, Anna. Do you remember what my Mama once told me, that when two people love each other, everything is the most terrific fun?"

They laughed together.

"Yes, Milady. Her Ladyship was right wasn't she?" Anna smiled.

"She was," Mary said, looking at Matthew. "Good night, Anna."

"Good night, Milady," Anna bowed and left.

**Drewe Farm, Downton Village, England, May 1922**

"I thought you were feeling back to normal?" Mary said as they walked along the fence.

"I was," Tom replied. "But it's all this business with evicting tenants and driving forward in the name of progress."

"Yes?" Mary asked, looking at Matthew, then back at Tom.

"It isn't me," Tom sighed. "I'm a socialist for God's sake! I'm supposed to be helping these people, not kicking them out of their homes. But it's not just that. I don't feel like I belong here, and I've had that feeling for a while now."

"Surely you won't go back to Ireland?" Mary exclaimed.

"No," Tom shook his head. "I don't belong there either. I've been here too long, gotten too used to parts of this life. Plus it wouldn't be fair to Sybbie to put her into the middle of the revolution now."

"I'm glad to hear that you've at least considered that," Mary frowned.

"But it's not fair to keep her here either. She's be better off with a clean start somewhere else, somewhere where she won't be the daughter of the uppity chauffeur."

Matthew whispered to Mary.

"Well don't do anything rash, or decide anything quickly, Tom, please," Mary implored him. "We don't want to lose you."

Tom looked at her sadly, then nodded. They turned the fence and approached the door to the farmhouse.

"Besides," Mary said as they knocked. "You should feel good about what we're doing here. Despite all rights, we're ignoring progress and clinging to the tried and true ways of the past."

The door opened and a young man greeted them, his eyes widening as he realized who was on his doorstep.

"Lady Mary!" Mr. Drewe exclaimed, bowing to her.

"Mr. Drewe, I presume? You must know our agent, Tom Branson."

"Yes, of course. Mr. Branson, sir, good to see you again. Would you like to come in?"

"That won't be necessary," Mary said firmly. "We just came by to inform you ourselves that we won't be foreclosing. You can take over the lease and continue your family's tenure here now that the arrears have been paid in full."

Matthew sighed and Mary glanced at him in warning.

"I'm very grateful, My Lady," Mr. Drewe nodded. "I know you didn't have to do this, and I swear to you on my Father that I will do everything to reward your faith."

"I can't pretend to take the credit, Mr. Drewe. I was His Lordship who was determined you should stay. You owe your thanks to him," Mary replied.

"Come hell or high water or even more rent arrears," Matthew mumbled.

Mary glared at him again.

"His Lordship has my eternal thanks," Mr. Drewe smiled. "And he'll have the rest of the payment before he's missed it, I assure you!"

Mary blinked.

"Oh for the love of…" Matthew sighed.

"What payment?" Tom asked.

"The remainder of the debt, of course," Mr. Drewe looked at Tom curiously. "I thought you'd know about it."

"We do know about it," Mary said, looking pointedly at Tom.

"Yes, of course," Tom recovered. "I was being absent minded."

"His Lordship leant you the money to clear the arrears," Mary said. "Tom forgot to note it down for his records. It was how much again?"

"£50 to wipe the slate clean," Mr. Drewe replied. "And you'll have no other problems from us, My Lady."

"No I expect we won't, Mr. Drewe," Mary agreed. "Good day. I'm sure we have many fruitful years ahead of us."

They turned and left, walking back up the lane towards the motor.

"He hasn't changed at all," Matthew complained. "Lending money to a tenant that is already well in arrears? And he surely didn't charge him interest either. He refuses to change! He just wants to wear his blinders and run this place like it's the 18th century!"

"Well, Tom," Mary said pointedly, rolling her eyes at Matthew. "Are you happy now? We've saved a family that's been farming this land before any of us were even born."

"I'm not sorry to see them stay on," Tom answered. "But His Lordship lending money like that isn't very wise. If Matthew were here, he'd be livid."

"That's an understatement," Mary said, smirking at her husband.

Matthew held up his hands in exasperation.

"Will you challenge your father on this?" Tom asked.

"No," Mary decided. "If Papa believes enough in Drewe to lend him the money and to hide it from us, then that tells me something."

"What, exactly?" Tom asked as they reached the car.

"That we're all doomed so long as Robert still controls half the Estate," Matthew spat.

"That all of us," Mary said, glaring at her husband once more. "Are in partnership with a very decent man."

They both got into the car and Tom started the engine.

"And, Tom," Mary said, smiling as she felt warmth on her shoulder as Matthew grudgingly put his arm around her. "It's all right that we don't have all the answers and that we adapt to different situations as we go along. We Crawley's are nothing if not resilient."

Tom nodded and moved the car forward.

"And you and Sybbie are both Crawley's, regardless of your name," she smiled.

Tom looked at her and smiled back. They drove back to Downton Abbey in silence.


	8. Self-Preservation

**Previously:**

**Drewe Farm, Downton Village, England, May 1922**

"That all of us," Mary said, glaring at her husband once more. "Are in partnership with a very decent man."

They both got into the car and Tom started the engine.

"And, Tom," Mary said, smiling as she felt warmth on her shoulder as Matthew grudgingly put his arm around her. "It's all right that we don't have all the answers and that we adapt to different situations as we go along. We Crawley's are nothing if not resilient."

Tom nodded and moved the car forward.

"And you and Sybbie are both Crawley's, regardless of your name," she smiled.

Tom looked at her and smiled back. They drove back to Downton Abbey in silence.

**Self-Preservation:**

**Downton Abbey, England, June 1922**

Tom flipped the pages carefully, perusing the numbers, then jotting down figures in a ledger. He was meticulous and slow, making sure to go over each amount clearly before recording it, and sometimes reading over the numbers several times to make sure it was correct. His patient and cautious nature ensured no mistakes were made, and even though he took longer than most, his deliberate approach was appreciated on most days.

Today was not one of those days, however.

"Well?" Mary said impatiently, her arms crossed over her chest. She arched an eyebrow at her brother-in-law quizzically.

"Mary," Tom sighed. "I'm not finished yet. Just as I wasn't finished five minutes ago, and I won't be finished in another five minutes when you ask again."

"At the rate you're going, you won't be finished in another five hours!" Mary huffed. "We need these figures, Tom. I need to understand just what a calamity we're facing!"

Mary felt warmth around her shoulders and across her neck. Her eyes closed briefly and her breathing calmed.

"Darling," Matthew said patiently. "Tom's just doing his job."

"I know that!" Mary spat.

Tom looked up at her and frowned.

"I know that…you're doing your best, Tom," Mary said quickly. "But please hurry. If we're to convince Papa that we're on the right track, we need some good news for him."

Tom smirked and nodded, going back to his ledger.

Mary walked over to the far side of the library, away from Tom's gaze and ear. She looked up at the shelves, glancing at books that had not been touched in years, trying to distract herself.

"Regardless of what the numbers are for this month, there's still plenty of work to do, Mary," Matthew said softly.

"I'm well aware that we're nowhere near done," Mary whispered, glancing at him standing at her side. "But this is the first month where we'll be able to see what the impact of our changes may be, and if it's a bad month, Papa will use it against me."

"Well it isn't as if he has any brilliant ideas of his own," Matthew huffed. "Unless he thinks he can loan his way out of this."

"Matthew!" Mary hissed, looking back and making sure Tom was still calculating his numbers. "Will you not just let it go? Papa loaned Mr. Drewe the money and he's paying it back. There's no need to fuss over it."

"Until he does it again," Matthew rolled his eyes. Mary's eyes narrowed.

"Fine," Matthew sighed. "But, darling, none of this works unless we are disciplined about it! Straying off from what we need to do will only lead to more headaches down the road."

"Spare me the lecture, darling, please," Mary rolled her eyes. "I have more than enough to deal with already with Papa's constant nagging, not to mention Evelyn and his boss will be here this weekend and I need to make sure everything runs smoothly."

"Well, a visit from the Honourable Mr. Napier will give you a chance to kick back and throw on your dancing shoes again," Matthew said.

"Don't be so juvenile. You know very well how helpful they could be. If they tell us we're on the right track, that will go a long way with Papa."

"I'm not so sure," Matthew said quietly. "I've never heard of the government being interested in advising landowners. I think their visit could have an entirely different purpose."

"Are you saying that Evelyn is a liar?" Mary frowned at him.

"I'm saying I wouldn't put it past him to come up with a flimsy excuse to come see you again," Matthew replied.

"And what part will his boss, Charles Blake, play in this scheme he has planned?" Mary laughed incredulously. "Will Evelyn write a fake report to cover his tracks as well?"

"I don't know," Matthew said petulantly. "I just find it impossible to believe that two government officials are coming to Yorkshire to help the aristocracy reorganize their affairs out of some sense of tradition. There has to be more to it than that. It's more likely this report will be a scathing condemnation of the inefficiencies of these Estates and a recommendation that they should be allowed to perish."

"That sounds somewhat dire, darling," Mary frowned. "Are you more concerned about Evelyn writing a negative report about us, or him coming here to flirt with me?"

Matthew frowned back at her.

"Mary, I've got it," Tom called from across the room.

Mary looked at Matthew, then turned and walked briskly back to the table.

"It's about £380," Tom said, looking up at Mary with a neutral expression.

"£380?" Mary winced. "Well that will barely cover the expenses and the tax instalment for this month. It's not bad, but I was foolishly hoping for better."

Tom's face broke into a wide grin.

"Not £380 in revenues, Mary. £380 in profit."

"Profit?" Mary repeated, her eyes wide.

Matthew laughed. Tom laughed. Mary smiled in surprise.

"The first monthly profit that the Grantham Estate has recorded in almost a year," Tom said with satisfaction. "And the largest monthly profit recorded since before the War."

Matthew put his arms around her waist and Mary laughed happily. He pressed a kiss to her cheek.

"Congratulations, darling. I knew you had it in you."

"I'm due to give the numbers to the Earl," Tom said, rising from the table. "Unless you would like to share the news?" he smiled.

"No," Mary shook her head slowly. "You tell him. It'll seem more believable. But I want to know exactly what he says when he hears the news."

Tom nodded and collected his papers.

"Well done, Mary," he smiled, nodding before leaving the library.

Mary turned toward Matthew and beamed. Matthew covered her in his embrace and she closed her eyes, feeling his warmth and swaying slightly.

"We did it," she laughed merrily. "£380 in just one month! Papa will faint!"

"Or take credit," Matthew smiled.

"Oh, I don't care who takes the credit, darling," Mary opened her eyes and smiled at him. "Besides, I already know who's plans have led us to this victory."

"Anyone can write down instructions," Matthew smiled. "You did the heavy lifting. Robert won't be able to refuse us now. He'll have to agree to bring in the Tamworth pigs and the rest of it."

"We'll see. He's agreed tentatively already, but I can tell he's nervous," Mary said. "In fairness, it's a big step for us. We've never actively farmed to that level before."

"We can't survive on crops alone, darling, you know that. Livestock can be hard but they're predictable, and they're worth more than grain at the moment."

"I'm going to speak with Mrs. Hughes about the arrangements for our guests and the plans for Papa's birthday party. Why don't you go find out what Papa says about our news?"

Matthew kissed her cheek and left to catch up to Tom.

* * *

"You're dining at the Netherby?" Mary asked as Anna helped her with her glove.

"I know. It's quite something, isn't it Milady? I don't think we've eaten in a hotel since before we were married," Anna beamed. "You don't mind, do you?"

"Not at all," Mary smiled. "And don't rush back. I won't need you this evening."

Anna looked at her Mistress in confusion. Matthew looked up at her from the bed.

"No, I'll be back Milady. Don't you worry."

"Anna, it won't be a disaster for me to get myself to bed," Mary smirked at her husband through the mirror. "It may even be fun."

"Did I tell you that Mr. Napier and Mr. Blake will be here in time for dinner on his Lordship's birthday?" Mary continued.

"Rather a baptism of fire," Anna noted. "How long are they going to stay?"

"I'm not sure. It's open ended," Mary replied.

Matthew rolled his eyes and looked away.

"That's fine, Anna, thank you. Off you go. I don't want you to be late for your date."

"Thank you, Milady," Anna smiled and left the room, closing the door behind her.

Mary went over and sat down at her vanity. Matthew turned and looked at her.

"How do you know so much about pigs and livestock? You were never a farmer," Mary asked, adjusting the brooch on her dress.

"No, but I can read what prices are paid for them and historically they have sold very well," Matthew replied. "I discussed the idea with some of the tenants back when Robert and I were fighting over modernising operations."

"Well I hope someone knows how to deal with them. Tom's been out of practice for a while now. But, Rose says her Papa swore by them at Duneagle, so there's that."

"Perhaps Evelyn can lend a hand?" Matthew said drily.

"Perhaps," Mary said, looking at him through the vanity mirror. "I'll ask him when he arrives. After I'm done dancing with him, of course."

Matthew rolled his eyes. "I was being facetious," he grumbled.

"As was I," Mary smiled, rising from her chair and sitting down lightly on her side of the bed.

He looked at her and grunted out a laugh.

"In case you needed reminding, I chose you over Evelyn long ago. In fact, he removed himself from the running shortly after meeting you, did he not?"

"That isn't entirely accurate," Matthew smirked, moving closer to her. "But I'm willing to entertain your selective memory for the moment."

Mary leaned towards him. "I know that look. You're about to ask me if I would consider skipping dinner."

"The thought did just enter my mind," Matthew smiled wickedly.

A hard knock interrupted them.

Matthew's head dropped. "I thought you were done with Anna."

"I am. She should be getting ready for her dinner with Bates," Mary frowned. "Yes?" she called.

Edith opened the door and walked in nervously.

"Edith," Mary looked at her sister with a more perplexed expression than usual. "What…whatever's the matter?"

"Michael's vanished into thin air," Edith said shakily. "Nobody's heard from him. No one can reach him."

Mary shared a look of concern with Matthew.

"Well he is in Germany, Edith," Mary said carefully. "I'm sure it's just a failure of communication. Blame it on defective German phone lines or mail delivery. If anything had happened, we'd have heard."

"Maybe," Edith fidgeted with her hands. "I just wish to God he'd pick up the telephone."

Mary looked at Matthew again.

"Do you want us to send someone over there? Papa can make arrangements if Mama tells him to," Mary suggested.

"There's a detective in Munich already trying to find him," Edith shook her head. "He needs to find him. Michael has to turn up."

"He will, Edith," she said bravely, rising from the bed. "Come on, let's go down for dinner. Put on a brave face, please. It's Papa's birthday in a few days and the guests will need to see us at our best."

* * *

"There's a fair number of guests arriving for the birthday party tonight," Matthew noted. "More than I expected."

Mary closed her book and rose from the sofa. "It's not as big an affair as the house party, but it's clearly more than just a family gathering."

"What does Robert think about all of this?" Matthew asked, rising and following her towards the Great Hall.

"What do you think? People who constantly say they don't want a fuss made over them are always the ones who enjoy it the most when you do."

Mary and Matthew came out of the library as Carson announced the arrival of two particular guests. Mary smiled and greeted them as the Honourable Evelyn Napier made the introductions. Matthew stood beside her, looking over both men carefully. Evelyn smiled at Mary like an embarrassed schoolboy. His boss, Charles Blake, kept looking around the Great Hall.

"It's so kind of you all to have us," Evelyn smiled at Mary. "Isn't it, Charles?"

"It is," Charles said curtly as he returned his gaze to them.

"Well, we're anxious to do our bit," Mary said kindly.

"What do you mean by that?" Charles asked, his eyes narrowing.

"Well, you're here to advise the landowners on how to get through this crisis, aren't you?"

"I'm afraid Evelyn may have given you the wrong impression," Charles smiled.

"Well he certainly did not warn us that you have no interest in helping us, if that's what you're implying," Mary said cautiously.

"The government is aware that great estates are being sold in large numbers. North Yorkshire has a number of these estates, big and small. And many are in difficulty. We will have every variety of problem to study," Charles informed her.

"And once all of your helpful studying is completed, how will you solve this variety of problem for everyone's benefit?" Mary asked, her voice growing colder.

Matthew smirked.

"We're here to analyze the situation and ask whether our society is shifting fundamentally. Will it affect food production, and so on?"

"Splendid," Mary smiled. "Just what we need, two experts sent here to ask questions about the food supply rather than the people providing it."

"Rest assured we are concerned about the farmers," Charles retorted.

"Just not the landowners," Mary replied. "And that doesn't seem mean spirited?"

"Mr. Lloyd George is more concerned with feeding the population than rescuing the aristocracy. I don't find that mean spirited," Charles said drily.

Mary chuckled.

"Are you a landowner, Mr. Blake? Have you ever managed a Country Estate before? Or do you merely analyze them and ask questions?"

Charles looked at her curiously. "I live in London, Lady Mary. I don't currently own land, no."

"And what about your family? Any traces of aristocracy there? Or do you come from the kind of lot that doesn't need rescuing?"

Charles swallowed. "And your point would be?" he struggled.

"Well, it seems to me that you have a bias against our class, and I'm trying to ascertain what in your history has led you to this view. I don't know what estates you've seen, Mr. Blake, but rest assured that Downton is far different. We provide, Mr. Blake, not only food for your plates in London, but also for the existence of many people, people who rely upon us, and have depended on us for centuries. Your fundamental shift, as you call it, may not have room for us in your mind, but we are certainly aware of the changing times and our need to change with them. My husband recognized this long before you and Mr. Napier and the government saw fit to come around asking questions," Mary glared at him with polite loathing.

Matthew barely kept in his laughter.

"I'm not surprised that you believe your survival is the key to ensuring the health of the nation's agriculture industry, Lady Mary, but we may not share this view," Charles answered slowly.

"Go easy on him, Mary," Matthew whispered.

Mary smiled as Matthew armed her next reply.

"Well by all means, Mr. Blake, include in your report your theory that government run farms would be more efficient and beneficial. History tells us that state farms worked wonders in Russia and Italy haven't they?"

"I hardly think that it's appropriate to compare England to those countries!" Charles choked out.

"No, of course not. Britain isn't nearly as socialist. Our government is far more compassionate to the plight of all of its people, isn't it, Mr. Blake?"

"We'll be here until we're done our report," Evelyn interjected nervously. "I'm afraid if you want us to stay up until two in the morning being witty, you may find us disappointing guests."

"It's Papa's birthday, so you must attempt to be witty tonight," Mary said, maintaining the same cold smile before focusing again on Charles. "After that, we'll lower our expectations to ensure you aren't a disappointment."

Mary turned to Carson, who was standing rather uncomfortably to the side, observing the exchange. "Carson, have these two gentlemen shown to their rooms and let them know when the gong sounds and what time we meet in the drawing room."

Mary nodded briefly to both of them and walked away without awaiting a further response.

"At least now we know why they're truly here," Matthew smiled.

Mary shot him a withering look. "Don't you become a disappointment as well, now."

* * *

"Have you seen Evelyn since your lovely greeting this morning?" Matthew asked.

"No," Mary sighed. "And there really is no need to now. The sooner he and Mr. Blake finish their snooping, the better."

Mary opened the door to the nursery and smiled. She nodded to Tom before picking up George in her arms and smiling at him.

"Just what I needed," she sighed as she patted his back and held him against her chest.

"Long day?" Tom asked, smiling at her as Sybbie played with his finger.

"They all are, aren't they?" Mary sighed. "I've mistakenly invited two interlopers from the government to stay with us. They'll be poking and prodding us until they have conclusive proof that Downton should be burned to the ground and the lands converted into a commune."

Tom laughed. Matthew smiled.

The door then opened and Mary smiled as Isobel cautiously entered the nursery.

"Mother," Matthew smiled.

"I thought I'd come up early and spend some time with my grandson, if it was all right," Isobel said carefully.

"Of course it's all right," Mary said cheerfully. "I was just about to feed him, but now you can. George will like that," Mary said, holding him up for her.

Isobel took George in her arms and sat down nearby. "Oh, I doubt it. He probably thinks who's this funny old lady?"

"Never," Mary said firmly. "You helped bring him into this world. He could never forget you."

Matthew smiled and rubbed Mary's back as she sat down nearby.

"By the way, I thought I'd be Grandmamma, and then Cora can be Granny," Isobel smiled.

"That sounds perfect, although I don't know if Mama is ready to be called Granny just yet," Mary smiled.

"And what about Sybbie?" Tom smiled. "What should she call you?"

"Well, Aunt Isobel," Isobel replied, rocking George slightly as she gave him his bottle. "I'm not quite a real aunt, but I nearly am."

"You are," Tom agreed.

"Did I read that your friend Lord Gillingham is engaged?" Isobel asked Mary in a concerned voice.

"He isn't really my friend, just an old acquaintance," Mary said evenly. "And yes, he's engaged, to Miss Lane Fox."

"I hope you don't mind the news," Isobel said. "I should so hate for you to be unhappy."

Mary looked at Matthew and he smiled at her knowingly.

"I'm not unhappy," Mary smiled. "I'm quite happy actually. The Estate is doing well, and I know it's what Matthew wanted."

"You know, when I got engaged, I was so in love with Reginald I felt sick. I was sick with love, literally! It seems so odd to think about it now. It really does," Isobel said wistfully.

"It was the same for me," Tom replied. "As if I'd gone mad, or been hypnotized, or something; for days, weeks, all I could think about was Sybil."

Matthew put his arm around Mary's shoulders and kissed her softly on the cheek.

"You know, I don't feel odd thinking about Matthew at all," Mary smiled. "Our engagement is so clear in my mind, as if it happened recently. I was standing outside in the snow and I didn't have a coat. But I wasn't cold because all I kept thinking was – He's going to propose. He's going to propose!"

Mary looked over at Matthew and smiled.

"And you know that's why I haven't been unhappy for months now," Mary continued. "Because I was reminded that Matthew is with me, and I need only think about him and all of the memories we have together, and I don't feel sick or odd about any of it. I just feel warm, soothingly warm."

Isobel and Tom both nodded and smiled.

"Well, aren't we the lucky ones?" Isobel beamed.

"We are," Mary grinned, looking at Matthew. "The luckiest."

* * *

"Evelyn mentioned that you've reached a settlement on the Death Duties," Charles noted, looking around the dinner table before taking another potato.

"Yes," Robert replied. "Mary negotiated the settlement and payment plan herself."

"Did she?" Charles smirked at her.

"Yes," Mary replied. "I found the tax authorities to be remarkably reasonable people. They must not have been warned about me in advance," Mary raised her eyebrow to Charles.

Matthew rolled his eyes but could not help but smile.

"And Tom tells me that you're in the midst of converting some of the farms to livestock, pigs in particular?" Evelyn continued.

"We are," Robert nodded. "We've farmed these lands for centuries. We're not against working to keep what we have."

Matthew chuckled.

"I must say I can't help feeling sorry for the poor pigs," Mary noted, taking a sip of wine.

"Do you eat bacon?" Charles asked.

"Yes," Mary answered, confused at the question.

"Sausages?"

"Yes," she frowned.

"Then you are a sentimentalist who cannot face the truth," he concluded, sipping his own wine.

Mary smiled.

"Let's not be too merciless, darling," Matthew smirked.

"Mr. Blake, are you a religious man?" Mary asked lightly.

"Of course."

"And do you support the idea of an equal distribution of wealth among the population?"

"Yes, in a more fair manner, yes."

"Fair, you say?" Mary tilted her head slightly. "Because the means of production are not controlled in a fair manner, correct?"

"No, they aren't," Charles said carefully. "The current system is far too ruthless for my taste. It doesn't give workers a chance to improve themselves."

"And what of workers who are simply unable to compete with others?"

"Well, they don't belong in control, but they should not be left behind either," Charles said thoughtfully.

Matthew smiled.

"My, Mr. Blake, that sounds rather sentimental of you, or socialist. It seems to me you would rather change the truth to suit your beliefs," Mary smiled predatorily. "I have a proposal for you to consider. I'll be more open minded about facing the truth as you call it, and you'll spare a moment to acknowledge the sacrifices of the pigs that find their way to your table."

"I'll think about it," Charles seethed and took a bite of his roast.

* * *

"Mmm," Mary purred, smiling as she felt Matthew's warmth across her back and side. His hands moved to her hips and she arched her back slightly.

"You've calmed down," he smiled against her neck.

"Getting ready for bed often puts me in a relaxed mood," she said.

"Apparently," Matthew kissed her shoulder. "Although I think I enjoyed it more when Anna was out on her date the other night and you had to fend for yourself."

"Yes, you filled in adequately for her," Mary smiled.

"Did you end up finding the band leader downstairs as Robert asked?"

"Yes," Mary blinked, then closed her eyes again. "Although I got a bit of a surprise when I finally found him."

"Really?"

"It's nothing. At least, not yet anyway."

"Evelyn and Mr. Blake seemed to retire rather early," Matthew noted.

"I'm surprised they weren't jazz fans," Mary huffed. "You would think that type of music would be the chorus of their revolution."

"It's a waste of breath to ask you to play nice with them, isn't it?" Matthew smiled, kissing her neck.

Mary tilted her head towards the pillow to give him the length of her throat. "I don't play with anyone who uses their own rules. You were right. They clearly aren't here to help."

"Well you would have had to put up with them even if you hadn't invited them. They would have come around eventually as part of their inspection regardless."

"Maybe," Mary agreed. "In any event, I don't have the time or energy to worry about either of them. The pigs will be here soon and we'll need to focus on that. A great deal is riding on it."

"Perhaps we'll impress them with our handling of such an important link in the food supply," Matthew smiled.

"They'll probably just make a note of it in their report. I know their type. They won't actually do anything, just watch from afar while we flail away, then write down the details."

Mary opened her eyes as she felt warmth travel across her hip and down across her bottom.

"Matthew?" she smiled. "What are you doing?"

Matthew pressed his lips against her cheek and the warmth radiated through her.

"I'm fondling my wife," he breathed against her ear. "Is that all right?" he asked with a mix of nervousness and something else, something in his tone that Mary had not heard for nearly a year.

"Certainly, darling," Mary said, pushing herself back towards him. "I do enjoy your touch."


	9. Saving Her Bacon

**Previously:**

**Downton Abbey, England, June 1922**

"They'll probably just make a note of it in their report. I know their type. They won't actually do anything, just watch from afar while we flail away, then write down the details."

Mary opened her eyes as she felt warmth travel across her hip and down across her bottom.

"Matthew?" she smiled. "What are you doing?"

Matthew pressed his lips against her cheek and the warmth radiated through her.

"I'm fondling my wife," he breathed against her ear. "Is that all right?" he asked with a mix of nervousness and something else, something in his tone that Mary had not heard for nearly a year.

"Certainly, darling," Mary said, pushing herself back towards him. "I do enjoy your touch."

**Saving Her Bacon:**

**Downton Abbey, England, July 1922**

"And your Grandmamma feels that Robert is the best character witness for your Uncle?" Matthew asked, looking up from the bed over at his wife standing across the room.

"Apparently," Mary said absentmindedly. She played with her necklace while she stared intently out the bedroom window.

"A man must have very few friends indeed if the Earl of Grantham must cross the ocean to vouch for him," Matthew smiled.

"Mmm," Mary said blandly.

Matthew tilted his head, observing her for several moments. He smirked.

"I must say I'll be glad to see Robert go to New York for a few weeks. He really has become increasingly boring and intolerable in his old age," Matthew said carefully, watching for any reaction from her.

"Yes," Mary replied, still looking out the window, her back to him.

"Perhaps if we're careful enough, we can sneak into your parents' bedroom while your Mama is out," Matthew said conversationally to Mary's back. "It could be exciting to lie with you in such a forbidden place."

"What is he doing out there?" Mary asked, frowning.

Matthew rolled his eyes and came to her side. He looked out on to the grounds and was not surprised by the sight of Evelyn Napier and Charles Blake standing on the grass pointing out in the direction of the farms.

"What is who doing out there? You're referring to Evelyn?" Matthew smiled.

"No, Charles Blake," Mary spat, her eyes not leaving them. "Coming here and scrutinizing everything about us. It's insulting!"

"Well perhaps it's Evelyn who's put him up to it," Matthew teased.

"Hardly," Mary scoffed. "Evelyn is on our side. Mr. Blake is obviously not."

"They're here to write a report of their observations, darling," Matthew said slowly. "So in order to do that, they need to observe, you know."

Mary rolled her eyes and turned away from the window.

"I thought you weren't going to let them affect you?" Matthew asked, following her.

"They don't!" Mary replied. "But I don't appreciate them poking and prodding around, as if looking for any excuse to condemn us."

"You do understand that it's the Estate they're evaluating, don't you? They aren't judging you, Mary," Matthew said kindly.

"Oh, Matthew!" Mary said dismissively. "It's all the same to them! They see us here, sitting in our Country House, sipping wine and being oblivious to the plight of the middle class. Every flaw they find is a personal attack."

"Well, you shall just have to be vigilant and resilient and give them no reason to stand against you," Matthew said, sliding his arms around her waist.

Mary leaned against his warmth automatically. "And what if they still find us wanting?"

"Then I feel sorry for them," Matthew chuckled against her ear. "For anyone foolish enough to stand against you clearly has no idea what he is in for."

Mary smiled and turned her cheek towards his kiss.

"They wouldn't be here nearly as much if not for you and Cora inviting them to stay while they do their work throughout the county," Matthew noted.

"They'd still be here when it came time to watch us," Mary replied. "And for the price of a few dinners, I'd rather keep them close."

"Are you saying we're at War with them, then?" Matthew smiled.

"I'm saying I won't be the only one being watched, if I can help it," she countered. "We'll see whether they are friend or foe soon enough."

"Let's go down," Matthew said. "You need to see Robert off."

Mary stepped towards the door, then turned on him and frowned.

"What were you saying just now about my parents' bed?" she asked.

* * *

Mary smiled at her Papa as she came up to him in the Great Hall. Thomas and Jimmy carried His Lordship's suitcases out to the waiting car. The rest of the family, as well as Evelyn and Charles, were waiting outside to see off the Earl on his trip to America.

"You're sure you'll be all right?" Robert asked, looking at Mary seriously.

"Don't worry about me, Papa," Mary smiled. "Just go and please try and enjoy yourself."

"What about…" Robert looked out the open door at Evelyn and Charles. "Your watchers? Are you sure you and Tom can handle them?"

"We won't be alone," Mary smiled, glancing at Matthew. "When you return, we'll have more good news to report. And with any luck, the government workers will be a distant memory."

Robert smiled.

"I'm still unable to comprehend why you asked me to take Thomas instead of Bates. But I suppose it's no matter since Thomas readily accepted the assignment."

"Of course he did," Mary smiled. "It's an adventure. All those handsome stewards strutting around the boat deck. How could he resist?"

Robert frowned.

Matthew smirked.

"Don't be vulgar. What do you know of such matters?" Robert asked his eldest daughter.

"I've been married," Mary said drily, smirking at her husband. "I know everything."

Robert looked at her pointedly, then relented and took her hands in his.

"I know I don't show it, but you make me very proud. And I know Matthew would feel the same way," he smiled.

Mary smiled, squeezing her Papa's hands before releasing him. "Goodness, you haven't even left yet and you're already practically American."

They laughed as Mary linked her arm in her Papa's and they walked outside together.

"Goodbye, Mama," Robert smiled at the Dowager Countess.

"Goodbye, my dear," Violet answered with a tight smile. She leaned on her cane heavily. "Try not to let those Yankees drive you mad."

Robert smirked, then went down the line, receiving the well wishes of Edith, Rose, Isobel and Tom, before reaching his wife.

"Darling," Cora smiled at him. "I do think you going to rescue my hopeless brother is an act of real love, and I cherish you for it."

Robert smiled back. "I selfishly wish you were coming with me. But the fact that you know I'm doing all of this for you will keep me warm as I cross the raging seas."

"Good," Cora beamed. "Now, kiss me."

The Earl and Countess of Grantham shared a tender kiss. Rose covered her mouth and looked away, a grin coming to her lips. Edith looked over at Mary and the sisters smiled to each other.

Robert and Thomas got into the car. The Earl waved as the car went down the driveway, bound for the train station and the first leg of his journey to New York.

"Oh, well, that's a relief," Violet sighed, slumping slightly.

"What is?" Isobel frowned.

"I'm feeling rather ill, and I wanted him away before I keel over," Violet replied.

Matthew frowned and came over to them.

"I am sorry," Isobel said with concern. "Would you like me to come back with you?"

"That is the very last thing I would want," Violet said before coughing and walking gingerly towards Carson and asking him to have a car brought around to take her home. The butler nodded and hurried to attend to her request.

"Have you reached any general conclusions about why these other places are all falling?" Mary asked Evelyn, ignoring Blake purposefully.

"It's usually lack of money," Evelyn replied.

"It's more than that though," Charles interjected. Mary looked at him, her lips tight.

"So few owners make the most of what an estate has to offer," Charles continued. "So few think about income. So few are ready to adjust their way of life."

"Well, you have to understand what these people are used to," Evelyn suggested.

"No," Charles said firmly, causing Mary to blink. "They have to get used to something different. They think nothing needs to change. That God will be upset if the old order is overturned. To farm an estate is hard work," Charles glanced at Mary. "Never more than now. The owners must face up to that, or they don't deserve to keep what they have."

Mary's blood boiled. "Is that a revolutionary concept, Mr. Blake?" Mary asked, her voice acid.

"For some, it's an age-old adage," Charles replied easily. "For others, I fear it's a completely foreign concept that they fail to grasp, to their own peril."

"Interesting," Mary smiled. "I heard something very similar some two years ago. The idea that Downton was not given to us by God's decree, and that we must work if we wish to keep it."

"Wise words," Charles said carefully. "Who told you this, Lady Mary? An advisor to Lord Grantham?"

"My husband," Mary replied, arching her eyebrow. "The heir to this Estate."

"Ah yes, I've heard of him," Charles replied, looking at Evelyn before turning back to Mary. "The lawyer."

"Matthew," Mary corrected him. "He had many ideas and plans on how to maximize and diversify what the Estate has. We're rather lucky that he took pity on us when we are so undeserving of this land."

Evelyn looked away at Mary's rebuke of his boss. Charles remained silent.

"Mary, I need you to come with me," Matthew whispered, grasping her arm.

"Well, there's no need for you to linger with the rest of us. Please continue with your work," Mary smiled to Evelyn and Charles. "We wouldn't want you to be late. Good day."

She turned and left them without waiting for their reply.

"What is it?" she whispered to Matthew.

"Don't panic, darling, but there's something wrong with your Granny. I want you to speak to Mother before Tom drives her back home."

Mary nodded as he gave his instructions.

"Mary," Isobel smiled. "Tom is being kind enough to drive me home. Would you like to come by for tea this afternoon?"

"I would love that, Isobel, thank you," Mary smiled back. "However, I was wondering if I could trouble you for a favour?"

"Of course!" Isobel nodded. "Something to do with George?"

"No," Mary shook her head. "Although I appreciate that you've been coming by more often to see him. I know he's warming to you. No, Isobel, I have a far more fussy patient for you, I'm afraid."

They both turned and looked at the Dowager Countess as she was helped into the motor, coughing continually.

Isobel turned to Mary and said nothing. She merely nodded before getting into the waiting car with Tom at the wheel.

* * *

"Milady? Have you settled on a gown for dinner or would you like me to choose something?" Anna asked.

Mary looked up from her vanity. "Oh, yes. Go ahead and pick something for me, Anna. I'm not feeling particularly picky about anything for tonight. It's just me, Mama and Mr. Blake for dinner."

"Is Mr. Branson not dining with the family tonight?" Anna asked.

"He's going to Ripon to listen to a politician speak about the brave new socialist world we'll all be living in soon," Mary rolled her eyes. "And Mr. Napier is dining with family friends tonight."

Matthew laughed from the bed. Mary gave him a playful glare through the reflection of her mirror.

"Will you be able to find a safe topic to discuss over dinner, then?" Anna smirked.

"I'll leave it to Mama," Mary replied. "I have no interest in entertaining him."

"Milady, I noticed that His Lordship took Thomas with him to America as his valet, rather than Mr. Bates," Anna said.

"Yes," Mary acknowledged. "I didn't think it right to take your husband away for weeks. His Lordship agreed, with some convincing."

"Thank you, Milady. It means a great deal to me that you would think of me," Anna smiled.

"Of course," Mary smiled. "God knows how much you've helped me, Anna. I want you to know you can trust me. I'm here if you need me."

"Thank you, Milady," Anna said shakily. "I'm very glad we can talk to each other like this."

"As am I, Anna," Mary smiled. "But, honestly, I wish you would…"

A sharp knock at her door interrupted them. Cora opened the door.

"Mary! Come! We have to go to the Dower House right away and see your Granny," she said firmly.

Mary rose from the vanity, frowning. "What's wrong?" she asked anxiously as she walked after her Mama.

"Let's get there first," Matthew said as they descended the stairs.

**Dower House, Downton Village, England, July 1922**

"It's bronchitis," Isobel said when Mary and Cora came into Violet's bedroom. The Dowager Countess was huddled under the quilts on her bed. She looked over at them with a glassy expression.

"Dr. Clarkson says she needs to take inhalants, mostly," Isobel continued. "But she needs someone to watch her to make sure she sleeps and it doesn't turn into pneumonia."

"Oh, Granny," Mary sighed.

Violet moaned.

"It seems unfair that you should have to bear it all on your own," Cora noted. "There must be something we can do."

"No. It has to be me," Isobel said firmly. "I'm a trained nurse, and none of you are."

"Doctor!" Violet exclaimed suddenly, staring at Cora. "I want a new nurse! This one is entirely incompetent and she talks far too much!"

"She's been babbling more and more," Isobel sighed.

"Are you sure, Isobel? I feel that one of us should be here," Cora said.

"I can stay," Mary said, looking at Matthew. "Dinner was hardly going to be of interest tonight anyway, and it hasn't been that long since I was last a nurse."

"It's not necessary," Isobel replied. "She doesn't recognize any of us, she's so feverish. She won't know if you were here or not."

Violet coughed loudly, her breath wheezing before she slumped back against the pillows.

"I'll be fine. The servants will assist me. Besides, I'd like to keep this illness to the Dower House only. Mary, there's no need to risk bringing it back and possibly passing it on to one of the children."

Mary's eyes widened.

"Perhaps it's for the best," Cora agreed. "Though I am not at all comfortable with it."

"When she comes around, I'll tell her you wanted to stay and that I forbid it," Isobel smiled up at Cora. "She'll believe that I would do something like that."

"Thank you, Isobel," Cora smiled. "Please ring us the moment there's anything." She turned and made her way down the hall ahead of Mary.

"You should stay with your mother and Granny," Mary whispered to Matthew as she trailed behind Cora.

"Are you sure?" Matthew frowned.

"I hardly need you at dinner, not when Isobel will have to stay up the entire night with Granny," Mary answered. "Just stay until you're satisfied that everything is under control, then come back to me. Please, Matthew. I need to know she'll be all right."

"All right," Matthew sighed. "I'll be back as soon as I can," he kissed her cheek and turned back towards the bedroom, Violet's cough ringing down the hall.

**Downton Abbey, England, July 1922**

"Did the pigs arrive?"

"Absolutely, although I did not have a chance to see them. I'll go by tomorrow with Tom."

"Well I'm curious to see them, and I'll be out all day tomorrow. Why don't we walk down after dinner? Lady Grantham?"

"Oh no," Cora said, laughing lightly. "Why don't you two go? It's a nice evening for a walk. I'll take it on trust."

"Tonight?" Mary exclaimed. "Surely there's no urgency."

"I thought the pigs were a large part of your plan?" Charles smiled. "Or were you going to simply leave it to your pig man to deal with them and not dirty your own hands?"

Mary narrowed her eyes at him. "It's quite a long walk, but I don't mind, if you really want to, Mr. Blake. You'll find that I have a high tolerance for being near swine."

The dinner gong sounded, saving them from further conversation. Cora led them through and Mary looked around the room, hoping silently that Matthew would return soon.

**Grantham Estate Pig Farm, Downton Village, England, July 1922**

Mary looked around the pen, feeling an odd sense of pride in spite of the fact that she was observing a group of pigs. How strange, she thought, that she should feel any kind of connection to livestock, particularly the filthy, grunting, squealing kind before her. But the fact was that these pigs represented far more than just farm animals that belonged to her family. They were, in a somewhat comical way, the means to their salvation.

"This is a sizable group," Charles commented.

"The idea is to learn from these, and if all goes well, to expand," Mary explained, looking around distractedly. Would Matthew know she had come down here? Was everything all right with Granny?

"And you have a good pig man?" Charles asked.

"He comes highly recommended," Mary noted, returning her eyes to the animals.

"Well, that's important because…hold on," Charles frowned, staring into the pen.

"What?" Mary noted his concerned expression. "What is it? What's happening?"

"This one," Charles pointed at a large pig lying listlessly in the mud. Charles looked more closely. "This one's almost dead."

"Why?" Mary asked in shock, looking from the pig and back at Charles.

"It looks dehydrated. It's had no water," Charles responded.

"Isn't there a water trough?" Mary asked, growing anxious as she approached the fence.

Charles looked around the pen, then spied the water trough. "It's been kicked over," he said plainly.

"How could this have happened?" Mary said, her pulse racing. The pigs had just arrived and they were already in danger?

"Quite easily," Charles replied. "But something must be done, and quickly," he said grimly.

"There's a water pipe, in the barn, but we can't drive the animals to it," a voice said calmly in Mary's ear.

"Matthew!" Mary whirled and looked into her husband's serious expression gratefully.

"What?" Charles asked, looking at her.

Mary turned back. "The closest clean water source, it's a water pipe in the barn, with a pump."

"You can't just flood them, Mary. We need to nurse them back slowly," Matthew advised her. "If Charles wasn't here, I could carry the water buckets myself."

"They're too dehydrated," Charles said. "You must give it to them gradually."

Mary frowned, then glanced at Matthew before looking back to Charles. "Run up to the house and have Carson get a car for you to fetch the pig man," she said. "I'll watch them until you return."

"There's no time for that," Charles spat. "They need water now."

He took off his jacket and began walking to the barn.

Mary looked at Matthew. Matthew sighed.

She turned and marched past Charles and into the barn. Reaching the water pipe, Mary threw a bucket under the pump and filled it with water, moving it aside with some effort then filling a second one.

"What are you doing?" Charles frowned.

"What does it look like I'm doing?" Mary shot back. "I'm saving my pigs."

Mary grimaced as she lifted the two buckets and made her way back to the pen. She reached it and placed one bucket on the ground as she hefted the other.

Matthew righted the trough and ensured it was still intact. He came around and supported the bucket as Mary poured the water into the trough. Mary put the empty bucket down and exhaled. Matthew helped her lift the second bucket and held its weight as she poured water into the trough as well.

"Take these back to the barn and fill them," Matthew said quickly. "I'll move the pigs over to the trough, then join you."

The pigs grunted and squealed, moving slowly towards the trough. Mary turned and blinked as Charles brought two buckets over, pouring one into the trough and setting the other one aside. Mary frowned at him, then shook her head and walked past him and back to the barn.

"They're drinking," Matthew said as she filled two more buckets. She grunted as she lifted them and turned back to the pen. "We'll need to watch them for a while still," he said.

"What a lovely evening this has been," Mary said through gritted teeth as she carried the two full buckets back to the pen.

They continued for several hours, bringing buckets to the water trough, sometimes dousing the animals with the water to hydrate them, and encouraging them to drink. She and Charles moved in and out of the pen, the pigs moving around them through the mud.

Eventually, Mary sat down on a hay bale and watched as the animals drank. Mary could not tell if they looked any healthier than when she first arrived. She was hardly a proper judge of the movements of pigs. Her dress was ruined, most of it covered in muck, as well as her gloves and shoes. Her coiff had come undone and her hair was sweaty and dirty, the mud had flown as she and Charles had moved about the pen.

"Are they going to be all right?" she asked as she felt warmth across her shoulders and back.

"They're drinking, so that's good," Matthew replied.

"I think so," Charles answered. "I'll watch them for another hour and give them one more drink. But you, you should go," he said, looking at Mary.

Mary turned towards him and frowned. "I'm not going! They're my pigs!" she said indignantly.

Matthew smirked, running his hands up and down her back, warming her against the night chill.

"Here, take my coat," Charles offered. "At least it's dry."

"That's all right, thank you," Mary mumbled, leaning towards Matthew. "I'm not cold."

"I never pictured you like this, I'll admit," Charles said.

Mary did not bother looking at him. "If that's how you apologize for underestimating me, Mr. Blake, then I accept."

Matthew smirked and held his wife close to him.

"And if it's just an observation and not an apology, Lady Mary?" Charles smiled.

"So long as you've learned your lesson, Mr. Blake, I don't require your sorrow," Mary said, smirking at him in reply.

She sat under the moonlight with Matthew's arms around her and watched the Grantham Estate Tamworth pigs drink and lounge contentedly in the muck.

"Don't ever say we never go anywhere exciting, darling," Matthew whispered.

Mary smiled and laughed, giving no explanation when Charles regarded her curiously.

**Downton Abbey, England, July 1922**

Mary turned the lock in the door, thankful for Carson's foresight in leaving the key for them to get back into the house. She walked across the darkened Great Hall, Charles quietly following her.

"Well, that was quite an adventure," Charles said. "After you, Lady Mary," he said motioning towards the staircase.

"Go ahead," Mary said patiently. "I'm going downstairs to leave the key for Carson, and perhaps get something to eat."

"Oh," Charles said in surprise.

After several moments, Mary rolled her eyes. "Well, come along if you wish, or retire, Mr. Blake, but I'm going downstairs."

Charles followed her as she went downstairs and through the servants' hall to the dimly lit kitchen. She placed the key on the large table. Charles took a seat on one of the stools.

Mary looked around, then noticed a bowl of eggs sitting on the counter. She grabbed it, together with a fork and another bowl. She cracked four eggs and mixed them, going over to the refrigerator and taking cream and adding a small pour to the bowl.

She noticed Charles' bemused expression as she put a pan on the stove and lit it.

"What?" Mary asked.

"I'm sorry," Charles shook his head. "It's you…cooking…who'd have thought it?"

"I can scramble eggs, but that's about it," Mary smiled. "My husband's the cook between the two of us. I suspect Carson had plans for these eggs, but too bad."

Mary quickly cooked the eggs, stirring and flipping them into a passable scramble before taking the pan off the heat and dividing them onto two plates. She placed the plates on the table and Charles poured them two glasses of wine.

"I don't deserve such attention," Charles said, raising his glass to her.

Mary raised her glass in turn and took a sip. "You helped with the pigs, and they aren't yours, so I can appreciate that as much as anyone. Bon appétit, Mr. Blake."

They ate in silence. Mary looked around for Matthew. He had walked with her back to the house, but had disappeared when she entered the Great Hall. Had he gone back to the Dower House? He told her that Granny was sleeping peacefully and seemed to be coughing and moaning less, and acting not as delirious as before.

"I didn't expect to see you as a cook and a water carrier," Charles said. "This has been a night of discovery."

"So long as you've learned your lesson, then it's been a success all around," Mary replied.

Charles regarded her thoughtfully, then nodded slowly as he sipped the last of his wine.

They both looked up at the sound of footsteps.

"I'm ever so sorry, Milady," Ivy said in surprise as she came into the room.

"Please, don't apologize," Mary smiled. "If you're getting up, then it's long past time for me to go to bed. Do you know if Anna has arrived yet, Ivy?"

"Yes, Milady," Ivy nodded. "She woke me and she said she expected you would need her early this morning, Milady."

Mary smiled. "She's indispensable to me. Good night, Ivy. Good night, Mr. Blake."

Mary walked back upstairs without another word.

* * *

"Ahh," Mary sighed, as she lay her head back against the edge of the tub. The water was steaming hot, and she allowed it to envelop her. "Perfect."

"Do you need more soap, Milady?" Anna asked.

"I'll need to soak in it for a week to get the smell of pigs off of me, I'm afraid," Mary replied, her eyes half closed. "You've done all you can, Anna. I'll ring for you after I've woken. Thank you for doing this. I'm sorry that you had to come up so early."

"It's not trouble at all, Milady," Anna bowed, leaving the bathroom and closing the door behind her.

Mary brought her arms out of the water, her skin glistening as she rested her elbows on the edge of the tub. She ran her fingers across her cheek, checking to make sure every speck of dirt had been thoroughly scrubbed away. She smiled as she recalled how brave Anna was when Mary rang for her so early. Her maid barely let a smirk cross her lips as she dutifully ran a hot bath, helped Mary out of her ruined clothes, scrubbed the evidence of her labours from her skin, emptied the tub of the soiled water and ran another hot bath so she could now soak away.

The heat of the water was soothing, and Mary sighed as she felt the knots in her legs relax. The soreness in her arms and shoulders from carrying innumerable buckets of water eased as the steam rose around her. Mary smiled as the tension in her neck slowly ebbed away, warmth spreading across her body.

"A little lower," she breathed. "My right shoulder is practically on fire."

Matthew smiled at her pale wet skin and moved his hand from her neck down to the knot of muscles on her shoulder. "I may have been a middle class solicitor, but even that has to be several rungs above water carrier and pig man."

"Mmm," Mary groaned in relief as her shoulder muscles loosened under his touch. "I don't know, darling. Some of your cases must have brought you perilously close to crawling in the muck."

Matthew laughed. "You naughty minx."

Mary opened her eyes, smiling up at him. "Don't pretend you didn't take some pleasure out of my predicament. The only person who would probably enjoy seeing me with mud on my face more than you would be Edith."

Matthew laughed again. Mary felt a soft touch against her cheek and lips and rolled her eyes.

"You were a sight," Matthew admitted. "Although I think you probably stunned Mr. Blake. He'll need to re-evaluate his opinion of you as a pampered aristocrat unwilling to do what's necessary for the future of the Estate."

"Do not mention that man's name," Mary scoffed. "He's absolutely…"

"Full of himself?" Matthew teased.

Mary rolled her eyes again. "It's not at all the same, and you know it. And don't think that I've become accustomed to discussing the merits of other men with you, because I haven't, and I doubt I ever will, even on the subject of someone as inconsequential as Charles Blake."

"Don't think I've become accustomed to it either," Matthew sighed. "But the fact remains darling that…"

"Don't!" Mary snarled. "I'm in no mood for a lecture, and especially not one on _that_ subject."

"Fine," Matthew surrendered. "You have to admit though that he was rather selfless tonight. After all, they aren't his pigs. And you proved quite conclusively to him today that you are willing to do some honest work in the name of Downton."

"He probably wanted to see the pigs so he could see if we bungled it up or not," Mary retorted. "But I suppose I should be thankful for his help. But I didn't do anything today for Charles Blake's benefit, or to change his opinion of me."

"Is that so?" Matthew smiled at her.

Mary opened her eyes. "It is," she said with a confident smirk. "I seem to recall getting my hands quite dirty very willingly for one man in particular. Cleaning and dressing wounds, changing bandages, replacing bed pans, emptying bowls full of vomit, pushing a wheelchair, and today exhausting myself carrying buckets of water, while covering myself in mud, to save a bunch of pigs."

"I believe the proper term is actually a drift of pigs…"

"Stop it!" Mary hissed.

"You know that I am forever grateful for all that you did for me during my convalescence," Matthew said earnestly. "But as for today…"

"Today was for you," Mary said firmly, looking directly at him. "All of it. All of the plans for the Estate, everything that Tom and I are trying to accomplish, everything that Evelyn and Blake are scrutinizing, is yours. It's your plan, your vision, your way of preserving Downton for me and for George. It will be a cold day in hell before I allow some dehydrated pigs to threaten my husband's legacy. So Charles Blake can go stuff it for all I care. I would have carried those buckets myself with or without his assistance."

Matthew shook his head and smiled ruefully.

"And I did have some help with the water carrying, and the pouring, and the getting the pigs to drink," she smiled. "I would have preferred if you could have thrown a bit more mud Blake's way though."

"That's not exactly what I was concerned about throughout that ordeal," he said. "It was a very noble thing you did today, darling. The pigs look like they're going to make it and the plan is progressing, all thanks to you. You made me very proud."

"Good," Mary smiled, closing her eyes. "You can show your appreciation by working on this knot in my back."

"Yes, my Lady."

Mary shifted in the tub and sighed as she felt a soft caress across her skin. She groaned as a particular sensitive area of her back flexed and the soreness ebbed away.

"You added cream to the eggs. I taught you to use milk," Matthew mused.

"I just grabbed what I saw first," Mary said dismissively. "It wasn't necessary to make the eggs perfectly. They were just for Blake anyway."

"And if they had been for me?" Matthew teased.

Mary smiled as she felt his warmth on her neck. "I would have saved the best parts for you."


	10. Her Protector

**Previously:**

**Downton Abbey, England, July 1922**

"Today was for you," Mary said firmly, looking directly at him. "All of it. All of the plans for the Estate, everything that Tom and I are trying to accomplish, everything that Evelyn and Blake are scrutinizing, is yours. It's your plan, your vision, your way of preserving Downton for me and for George. It will be a cold day in hell before I allow some dehydrated pigs to threaten my husband's legacy. So Charles Blake can go stuff it for all I care. I would have carried those buckets myself with or without his assistance."

Matthew shook his head and smiled ruefully.

"And I did have some help with the water carrying, and the pouring, and the getting the pigs to drink," she smiled. "I would have preferred if you could have thrown a bit more mud Blake's way though."

"That's not exactly how it works, and you managed quite well without me," he said. "It was a very noble thing you did today, darling. You made me very proud."

"Good," Mary smiled, closing her eyes. "You can show your appreciation by working on this knot in my back."

"Yes, my Lady."

Mary shifted in the tub and sighed as she felt a soft caress across her skin. She groaned as a particular sensitive area of her back flexed and the soreness ebbed away.

"You added cream to the eggs. I taught you to use milk," Matthew mused.

"I just grabbed what I saw first," Mary said dismissively. "It wasn't necessary to make the eggs perfectly. They were just for Blake anyway."

"And if they had been for me?" Matthew teased.

Mary smiled as she felt warmth on her neck. "I would have saved the best parts for you."

**Her Protector:**

**Downton Abbey, England, July 1922**

Mary finished the last of her toast. She sipped her tea thoughtfully as she perused the papers in front of her.

"Just as we thought," she smiled. "Prices have stabilized. That's four months now that they've stopped falling."

"It's an improvement from the early Spring," Tom nodded. "It will make it easier to predict what we can expect going forward."

"So long as everything goes smoothly with the pigs," Mary warned.

"Well things can only improve from what happened last week," Tom smiled.

"You do enjoy reminding me of that little adventure, don't you?" Mary smirked, putting her papers down.

"I wish I had been there to see it for myself," Tom laughed.

"Well don't expect a repeat performance," Mary looked at him pointedly. "In an emergency, I'm prepared to do my part, but we've hired a pig man for a reason, and I would hope something as simple as a water trough could be maintained without my needing to go down there every evening."

"He'll be fine," Tom smiled. "But it's nice to know we have a contingency plan if anything ever goes wrong again."

Mary rolled her eyes at her brother-in-law and sipped her tea.

"Mary, Tom," Cora smiled as she came into the room.

"Mama," Mary nodded. "You're down early."

"Well with your Papa in America, I need to get started on my day earlier than usual," Cora replied as she sat down. She smiled at Carson as he served her tea.

"How is the planning for the Bazaar coming?" Tom asked.

"Very well, thank you," Cora nodded. "It's always a struggle of course, but I'd like to think we're further along than usual this year."

"Well let me know if you need me to do anything. Sybbie loves the Bazaar, so whatever I can do to make it special for her…"

"That's very kind," Mary smiled.

Tom nodded and bid the ladies goodbye as he rose and left the Morning Room.

"This came for you, Mary," Cora said lightly as she handed Mary an envelope.

Mary took the card out of the envelope and read it. She blinked several times in surprise.

"Is there something wrong?" Cora asked.

"No, nothing," Mary shook her head. "It's been a while since anyone has referred to me as Mrs. Matthew Crawley," she said, showing her Mama the card.

"It's from the War Office," Mary continued. "They're dedicating a War Memorial at Liverpool Street station in London and they've invited me to attend."

"That's a rather strange request," Cora noted.

"Not at all," Mary said plainly, sipping her tea. "Matthew's old regiment is part of it. They want to gather as many of them as they can, and so they've asked me to represent him."

"So you'll go to London then?"

"Maybe," Mary considered. "Liverpool Street station is just a short walk from Aunt Rosamund's. It wouldn't be inconvenient to go."

"Edith is in London as well," Cora noted.

"What's that got to do with anything?" Mary asked.

"Nothing," Cora rolled her eyes at her daughters' continued indifference to each other.

"Won't Evelyn and Mr. Blake require your presence here?" Cora asked.

"Hardly," Mary replied. "If anything comes up, they can ask Tom."

"Perhaps you should stay. It may be better to spend your time with Evelyn rather than a boring ceremony in London," Cora said cautiously.

Mary frowned at her. "Mama, I'll say nothing more about your misguided matchmaking. If I didn't give Evelyn a second look years ago, what makes you think I would change my mind now?"

"A lot has changed since then," Cora said pointedly.

"And yet much remains disappointingly the same," Mary replied coldly. "I'm pleased that Evelyn is still a friend of the family, and that's where it ends."

Cora sighed. Mary rolled her eyes.

"You won't take Tom with you to London?" Cora asked.

"No. Why would I? Better that he stay here, and you, Isobel and Nanny can handle George. I'll only be away for two days."

"Travelling alone to London, Mary…" Cora shook her head in disapproval.

"I won't be alone," Mary said dismissively.

"So you'll take Anna then?"

"No," Mary replied. She did not need anyone else travelling with her and Matthew.

Cora looked at her curiously. Mary blinked, realizing the implication.

"I'll think about it. For now I'm off to Granny's," she declared, rising from her seat.

"Tell her I'll be by this afternoon," Cora said. "Make sure she isn't overexerting herself."

Mary nodded and left the Morning Room quickly.

**Dower House, Downton Village, England, July 1922**

Mary leaned down over the baby carriage, smiling down at George as he waved his arms and gurgled at her.

"He wants to be picked up."

Mary smiled, keeping her eyes on her son. "He'll be the centre of attention soon enough. For now, he's mine."

"Is everything all right here?" she asked.

"Yes," Matthew answered, smiling at his son. "Cousin Violet is on her feet. She still coughs and is a bit weak in the afternoons, but Mother is becoming more irritated with her, so that suggests she's almost back to normal."

"I'm glad to hear it," Mary smiled, looking over at him. "Now give your wife a kiss before we go in."

Matthew smiled and kissed her cheek. They wheeled the baby carriage through the foyer to the drawing room entrance.

"Lady Mary and Master George," Pratt announced.

"Ah! Just the boy for the job I have in mind!" Isobel smiled. Mary picked up her son out of the baby carriage and passed him to his Grandmamma. "Cheering up Cousin Violet," Isobel smirked at Mary.

"I hardly need cheering up," the Dowager Countess huffed from her chair. Still, she beamed as her great grandson was placed on her lap. Soon she was cooing at the boy as he smiled and clapped his hands awkwardly.

"I never thought I would see Cousin Violet so pleased to be playing with a baby," Matthew shook his head.

"Just because Granny may not show it doesn't mean she isn't as enamoured with our son as everyone else is," Mary whispered as Isobel and Violet fawned over George.

The little boy began shaking slightly and making strange noises. Violet frowned at him.

"It's the hiccups," Isobel smiled, picking up her grandson and holding him against her shoulder, patting his back with her hand.

"Here," Mary said as she retrieved a towel from the stroller and George's bottle.

"Why don't I give him his bottle? I'll take him to the kitchen so you can have a proper chat with your Granny," Isobel said cheerfully, reaching over and taking the items from Mary.

"That's not necessary," Mary shook her head.

"Nonsense, I insist," Isobel smiled. "Besides, someone needs to talk some sense into her. She thinks she's made a complete recovery."

"And who says I haven't?" Violet shot back.

"I say," Isobel declared. Violet coughed and Isobel smiled in triumph as she carried George into the kitchen.

"She's right you know," Mary said as she sat back down. "You were just bedridden mere days ago."

"She thinks she's right," Violet said pointedly. "There's a difference. Besides, if I am not available to help your Mama with the Bazaar then it will be a calamity."

"Mama is doing just fine. There's still over a month left so I'm sure your shift will come sooner than you think," Mary said teasingly.

"And what does Mr. Blake think of the Bazaar?" Violet asked.

"How would I know?" Mary frowned. "I hope he and Evelyn will be gone by the time the Bazaar comes next month."

"You speak rather disdainfully about a man you've spent an evening out with," Violet chuckled, pleased with her clever joke.

Mary's mouth shot open in astonishment.

Matthew smirked.

"Well clearly his company was rather unsatisfactory," Mary shot back, arching her eyebrow.

Violet smiled at her granddaughter.

"I am quite pleased that you've found your spark once again," Violet said quietly.

"Why, Granny, that almost sounded sentimental," Mary chuckled.

"I blame it on the illness," Violet said haughtily. "It's made me rather delusional. I'm even finding Cousin Isobel's company shockingly enjoyable."

Mary looked at Matthew and laughed.

"I'm glad to see you're doing better. I'm going to London for a few days, and I expect to see you back on your feet upon my return," Mary smiled.

"London? First Edith, and now you. Whatever is drawing you there?"

"There's an unveiling of a War Memorial and I've been invited to attend in Matthew's stead," Mary said quietly.

Matthew's eyes widened at the news. Mary smiled at him.

"That sounds quite official. Bravo, Mary. He would surely be proud of you for honouring his memory," Violet smiled.

"I'm glad you approve. Some would prefer that I forget about him and move on and re-marry as quickly as possible," Mary sighed, looking at Matthew accusingly.

Matthew frowned.

"That's utter rubbish," Violet retorted.

Mary looked at her Granny in shock. "Granny! I thought you of all people would be imploring me to have myself settled immediately."

"Hardly," Violet scoffed. "If the right match is available, then surely you will consider it, if only for the sake of Downton, and of your son. But we have a rather full plate of things to worry about at the moment. Whether you find another husband or not is hardly a priority."

Mary smiled and raised her eyebrows at Matthew.

Matthew rolled his eyes and smiled back at her.

"Here he is!" Isobel called, bringing George back into the room. "He's been fed and changed and is quite ready to entertain all of us!"

Mary smiled as Isobel placed George on the floor in front of him. The boy looked up at her, opening and closing his mouth cheerfully. Mary felt Matthew's warm hands across her back and she leaned towards him. They sat together and watched as Isobel and Violet spoke happy gibberish to their son.

**Downton Abbey, England, July 1922**

"We'll only be gone two days, Mary," Matthew smiled.

"I know that," she scoffed.

"It's getting harder to say goodbye to him isn't it?"

Mary rolled her eyes and sighed. "Yes," she said quietly.

"Good. See darling? Your maternal instincts are alive and well."

"Well, I do have a big baby to take care of on this trip already," she teased.

"I'm not a baby!" Matthew smiled and chuckled at his own outburst.

"No, you're just fussier than one," Mary smiled.

"Lady Mary," Charles nodded as he and Evelyn came into the Great Hall.

"Mr. Blake, Evelyn," Mary smiled politely.

"I understand you're going to London?" Evelyn asked.

"Yes, just for two days. There's an unveiling of a War Memorial at Liverpool Street station that I need to attend for my husband's sake," Mary explained.

"That's very honourable of you, Lady Mary," Charles said.

"I do it out of love, Mr. Blake," Mary said calmly. "My honour is hardly a concern. I don't hold my title or my honour as in high regard as some do theirs."

Charles blinked.

"Lady Mary has obviously heard about some of the issues plaguing our government," Evelyn smiled. "I can assure you, Mary, Charles and I are far removed from any of this wretched business involving the sale of titles and honours."

"I wouldn't think you would be involved," Mary smiled. "Not when you both are far too busy roaming the countryside casting an inquisitive eye over the lives of my neighbours."

Evelyn chuckled. Charles remained silent.

"If either of you require anything, Tom will see to you. If there's anything that is amiss with the pigs, I trust we can count on you to come to our rescue, Mr. Blake?" Mary smiled.

"I'm afraid I'm not up for another mud wrestling incident unless you are there, Lady Mary," Charles smiled back.

"My days of wallowing in the muck are over, Mr. Blake. You'll have to keep yourself out of trouble, or hope that Tom or Evelyn are brave enough to save you," Mary laughed.

"Safe travels, Mary," Evelyn nodded.

"Thank you, Evelyn," Mary smiled back. "Mr. Blake," she nodded.

"Lady Mary," Charles nodded back.

Mary walked outside to the waiting motor.

"There, darling," Matthew smiled. "It doesn't hurt to be polite does it?"

"I'm always polite," Mary scoffed as she took her seat and moved over for him to join her. "I still don't trust them though."

"Well hopefully we're on the right track so that whatever their report says won't be of any consequence," Matthew stated.

"They should be more concerned about their own jobs," Mary said with a hint of amusement. "Lloyd George is hardly on firm ground, and neither is his coalition to hear the latest news."

"Evelyn will be all right," Matthew said. "And I expect Mr. Blake is resourceful enough to land on his feet regardless of who is in power."

"As long as they are far away from here," Mary sighed.

Matthew covered her hands with his, and warmth flowed over her lap.

"Enough talk about them, darling," Mary smiled at him.

**Painswick House, Eaton Square, London, England, July 1922**

"Mary!" Edith exclaimed. "I didn't know we were expecting you."

"Obviously you weren't," Mary frowned.

"What brings you to London?" Edith asked brightly.

Matthew frowned as Edith's hand ran down her stomach before settling at her side stiffly.

"I'm just here for two days," Mary explained as they walked down the hall. "There's an unveiling of a War Memorial tomorrow at Liverpool Street station, and I was invited to attend on behalf of Matthew."

"Oh yes, we're covering it," Edith replied. "Sir Henry Wilson is doing the unveiling. We're trying to get an interview with him afterward."

"Angling for a comment on his view of the current government?" Mary smiled.

"That, and the situation in Ireland," Edith nodded. "He's very guarded though, I doubt we'll be able to speak to him. I have two men covering the event, so we'll see."

"I'm going upstairs to rest before dinner," Mary declared. "Please let Aunt Rosamund know I've arrived."

"Certainly," Edith said cheerfully.

Matthew looked back at Edith as he followed Mary upstairs. His brow creased as he watched her bite her bottom lip, clasp her hands together and turn away.

* * *

"I don't believe it!" Mary exclaimed, turning over in bed and facing him.

"I am quite certain," Matthew replied.

"But how?" she asked.

"Well, darling, you see when a man and a woman lay together…" he smirked.

"Don't be crass," Mary rolled her eyes. "I meant how do you know?"

"I can't really explain it," Matthew admitted. "It's just that I can sense the presence of people around you, sometimes even before they've appeared. It's almost like a sensation in my head that makes me look up or glance in a particular direction and I know someone will be there. Just now, when Edith greeted us, I felt something different about her, something that I didn't notice the last time we saw her."

"It has been a while that she's been in London," Mary nodded. "We always thought it was because she was working, but she's also been spending an inordinate amount of time with Aunt Rosamund, now that I think about it."

"Michael did leave for Germany several months ago," Matthew said.

"Yes, but having sex with a man before he left for another country? That's hardly something Edith would do. She would wait for marriage, and probably for several months after that."

"Mary," Matthew scolded.

"Getting pregnant out of wedlock. Goodness, Edith is more daring than I give her credit for," Mary huffed.

"It's such a surprise she wouldn't confide in you about this," Matthew said sarcastically.

Mary rolled her eyes. "She's not much better off with Aunt Rosamund as her ally."

"What will you do about it?"

"What can I do? Tell her that I know she's pregnant because you told me that you can sense the baby inside of her?"

"It wouldn't hurt for you to talk to her and at least let her know you're on her side," Matthew frowned.

"And take on yet another reclamation project?" Mary raised her eyebrows.

Matthew frowned again.

"I'll speak to her when we come back from the unveiling tomorrow," Mary sighed. "I can't promise anything beyond that."

"That's why I love you," Matthew smiled, kissing her cheek.

"Mmm," Mary smiled, closing her eyes. "Then you can warm me, please. Aunt Rosamund's home is always so much colder, even in Summer."

Matthew smiled and wrapped his arms around his wife as she fell asleep.

**Eaton Square, Belgravia, London, England, July 1922**

"What did you think of the ceremony?" Mary asked.

"It was very well done," Matthew said idly. "I find that there are many things about the War that I wish to forget, and yet we seem to constantly be coming up with ways to remind ourselves of it."

"Well, a War Memorial is only fitting, darling," Mary said patiently. "We're not glorifying anything about it, only paying tribute to all that was lost. I found it quite moving."

"Mmm," Matthew nodded, looking up at the sky as they walked. "War Memorials can mean different things to different people. I like to think it's not only for those of us who lived through it, but a warning to those who weren't touched as deeply."

"I like to think it stands for an important lesson," Mary said thoughtfully.

"Such as 'be mindful of the past so we don't repeat the same mistakes'?" Matthew suggested.

"I was thinking more along the lines of honouring the past and remembering to keep it a part of one's present," she smiled at him.

Matthew smirked and shook his head. "You mean honouring the past and leaving it where it belongs, and moving on to the future, don't you?"

"No," Mary said firmly. "For I do not see any value in leaving one's past behind. It makes us who we are, and why would anyone ever want to forget that?"

Matthew was about to reply when Meade opened the door to Painswick House and greeted Mary.

Smirking at her husband, Mary nodded to the butler and went inside. Matthew rolled his eyes and followed her.

"I'll take tea in the parlour," Mary said to Meade as she walked into the parlour and sat down at the window.

"Excellent, my Lady," Meade nodded and went to fetch her tea.

"When do you want to head back to Downton?" Matthew asked, taking the seat opposite her.

"Tomorrow," Mary answered. "I don't feel like rushing for the evening train, and having dinner with Aunt Rosamund and Edith would be the polite thing to do."

Matthew looked at her pointedly.

"And I have to speak to Edith on a very important matter," Mary threw up her hands in exasperation.

Matthew smiled and waited as Meade came in, served Mary's tea, then left the room.

"Matthew," Mary said, looking out the window. "Isn't that Sir Wilson over there?"

Matthew looked out the window and saw the retired statesman turning into a house down the street, still dressed in full military regalia.

"I wasn't aware he lived in Eaton Square," Matthew noted.

"Neither was I," Mary agreed, sipping her tea. "You would have thought Aunt Rosamund would have mentioned it. I'm surprised we haven't see him around. She's always inviting over politicians and the like."

Matthew's eyes narrowed and he frowned as he saw a taxi cab slowing on the road.

Matthew rose from his chair, keeping his eyes fixed out the window.

"Matthew?" Mary looked at him in confusion. "What is it?"

"Get up," Matthew said quickly as he crossed over to her.

"Matthew!" she protested, getting up from her chair and backing away from the window as he stepped between her and the window and backed her away.

Two men leapt from the taxi cab and drew pistols from their jackets. Matthew's eyes went wide. Mary dropped her tea cup, the delicate porcelain shattering on the floor.

"Matthew!" Mary gasped.

"Get back, Mary!" Matthew yelled, backing her up to the back of the room. Mary ducked down beside the sofa and out of sight of the horrible scene unfolding outside.

"Dex Aie!" the men screamed, levelling their guns at Sir Wilson.

Sir Wilson turned at the sound of their voices. As he saw the guns pointed at him, he drew his ceremonial sword.

"Cowardly swine!" he roared.

Matthew crouched in front of Mary, blocking her view and covering her head with his arm.

Six shots rang out, each one a sharp thunderclap echoing across the Square. Mary and Matthew heard each blast even within the walls of Painswick House. Mary shook with each sound, shrinking back against the wall.

An eerie silence fell over the Square momentarily, the only sound the frantic footfalls of the escaping assassins.

Voices and yelling and screaming rang out from outside. Police sirens blared and grew closer and closer. Mary swooned, leaning against the sofa with Matthew's arms around her.

"Matthew!" she cried out.

"Mary, I'm right here. You have to get out of this room. Go to the back of the house, away from the windows. Don't look back," Matthew said firmly.

"Mary!" Aunt Rosamund called desperately from the hallway. Meade rushed into the room and helped Mary to her feet. They scampered to the back of the house, where Edith was sitting and looking up at them with wide eyes. They all huddled together on the sofa, listening to the sirens outside.

Matthew took a look out the window across Eaton Square. Sir Henry Wilson's limp body lay in front of his home, his sword held uselessly in his dead hand.

Matthew rejoined Mary and held her in his arms as she struggled to slow her breathing.

"I'm here, Mary. It's all right," Matthew repeated over and over.


End file.
